


Swing

by atetheredmind (s_e_irvine)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_e_irvine/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The underground swingers population of Panem County is a mystery to Katniss, one she's about to become intimately more familiar with than she ever imagined. Everlark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abagail_Snow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abagail_Snow/gifts).



> This was originally a drabble I wrote prompted by frakit on tumblr (specifically, stranger!Everlark sex), and I've joked before about Everlark as swingers, so this is where my mind took the prompt. The lovely absnow brainstormed an awesome plot continuation with me. She refused to write the rest of the story herself, however, and basically forced my hand, so. But thank you so much to these two ladies for the inspiration and help with this story!

"Are, uh, are these your keys?"

Katniss blinked through the haze of alcohol to examine the set of keys being dangled in front of her face. They were, in fact, hers, but she briefly wondered if she could pawn them off on someone else. "Umm..." Her tongue felt too heavy, though, and she couldn't move it fast enough to form the lie.

"They're the last set in the bowl, and, well...you're the last one out here, so..."

Damn it. Clutching the stem of her wine glass possessively, she swallowed her sigh and glanced up at the face of the man holding her car keys. And she blinked again. He was... _pretty_. And blonde. And his blue eyes reflected just how nervous she felt. She didn't recall seeing him earlier, during the mingling portion of the night, but then again, she'd largely kept to herself, hesitant to engage in small talk with a stranger she might later have to fuck.

Stifling a sigh, Katniss tentatively took her keys from him. "Um, yeah, that's me," she mumbled, knocking back the rest of her wine. It was tart and bitter, but she needed the liquid courage for what was about to happen.

Why had she agreed to this?  _We need to spice up our sex life_ , Gale had said.  _Haven't you ever fantasized about sleeping with someone else?_ he'd said.  _No, of course I still love you_ , he'd said.  _I just want to try something new,_  he'd said. At first, she had been horrified, then angry, then upset. And then...vaguely intrigued. A swingers party?

She'd finally agreed to attend one after months of Gale's needling. She even thought she could handle it. Until she saw Gale select the keys of some busty blonde and lead her off into another room in this large house.

And then she wasn't so much angry at him for fucking someone else as she was terrified of what kind of brute she'd end up with.  _You can always say no_ , she'd chanted to herself repeatedly as she drained her wine, watching the keys disappear from the bowl.

Katniss stood up on wobbly legs, but whether it was from alcohol or nerves, she wasn't sure. The blonde man grabbed her arm to steady her—but gently, like he was afraid to touch her. "You okay?" he asked uneasily, and she nodded as she stuffed her keys into her clutch purse.

"I'm, um, I'm fine. Let's go," she said, forcing herself toward the many bedrooms designated for tonight's activities. After much online research and back-and-forth correspondence, she and Gale had driven separately to some swanky house in an exclusive, isolated neighborhood for a key party. The mansion was owned by an older gentleman named Coriolanus Snow. He and his plastic-looking wife seemed to be the self-appointed leaders of the underground swingers population in the small county of Panem where they lived; they often hosted meet-ups at their place to afford participants a certain level of discretion. Snow's hair was white, his red lips puffy, his skin stretched tight across his face, and while he seemed nice enough, something about his eyes gave her the distinct impression of a snake. Katniss had been immensely relieved when he hadn't drawn her keys from the bowl earlier that night. She didn't think she was capable of getting wet for someone she wasn't attracted to. And the number of attractive men at this gathering was dishearteningly low.

She supposed she got lucky this time.

The hallway she found herself in was long, lined with rooms. She could hear moans and screams as they passed every closed door, and she cringed to herself. She hoped this guy didn't expect a screamer or a talker. She wasn't really capable of either, unless she was very, very drunk. Which she wasn't, not nearly enough for this. Her "lucky" consort for the evening followed her closely as she led the way, his fingers grazing her waist every time she stumbled or wobbled.

"Are you—"

"I'm not drunk," she snapped defensively, though she wasn't entirely sure how sober she was. "I just—I'm not used to heels. I don't know why I wore them. It seemed necessary for some reason."

The man chuckled nervously. "Uh, yeah, I understand. I even put a tie on. It seems silly now..." Considering some of the more interesting outfit choices for the night—there was a lot of latex and lace—she and this man were two of the more conservatively dressed attendees.

And to think, she had spent half an hour fretting over the amount of cleavage her dress revealed before Gale finally convinced her she looked fine, rushing her out the door.

At the last empty room, she turned to look at her date. She hadn't really looked that closely at him earlier. He smoothed his gray tie down self-consciously under her piercing stare, trying to smile at her. His white dress shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders, and his black slacks were taut over his groin.

Oh.

"Um...it's a nice tie," she offered and slipped into the room, fighting her blush. He followed her inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. She didn't like how anxious she felt, how vulnerable and impotent she felt in this moment. She'd thought she'd be able to do this, but now all her fears and insecurities were pushing their way to the surface.

All she had to do was think of her husband fucking some random woman somewhere down the hall—hell, they could be next door for all she knew—and she felt her resolve solidify. Somewhat. She just needed to take charge, assert her will.

Schooling her face into a mask of indifference, Katniss spun around and fixed her date with a hard stare. "So, how do you want to start?" she asked, her voice faltering only slightly. Damn. So close.

He frowned, running a hand through his curly hair. "Um, well, how 'bout I first tell you my name? I'm Peeta." He moved closer, and she couldn't help the instinctual tensing of every muscle in her body. But he just held out his hand.

She took it after a moment and shook it, eyeing him suspiciously. "...Katniss."

He smiled, a genuine quirk of his lips. "Katniss? I like that. You look very lovely tonight, Katniss."

She scowled, believing she actually looked the exact opposite. By this point in the night, her long braid had been frayed from her hands worrying it all night, her chest was splotchy from anxiety, and her eyes were red from drinking. "You don't have to butter me up. I don't appreciate liars." The words were out before she could think about them, and she wanted to slap herself immediately. She was doing this all wrong!

Peeta looked taken aback, his smile slipping. "I'm not...well, I wasn't lying, and I'm not trying to butter you up. I just thought...I think we're both very uncomfortable, so I was just—trying to put you at ease, I guess," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks were pink.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, mildly horrified, then she blurted, "This is my first time at one of these. I don't know what I'm doing."

He laughed weakly, shrugging. "Me either. I'm a first-timer. My, uh...my girlfriend wanted to...try something new."

Girlfriend? Katniss quirked an eyebrow at the modifier, mildly curious as to why anyone in such a nonbinding relationship would even bother with swinging—but she guessed it took all kinds. What did she know about this subculture, really? She just nodded in agreement, adding, "So did my husband." She fidgeted with her braid again, and he grinned shyly.

"Well...it looks like we already have a few things in common." Hesitantly, he set down on the edge of the bed, and after a moment of loitering, Katniss joined him. He gave her a sidelong glance. "So, do you really want to do this?" he asked.

She licked her dry lips. "I'm, um, I was planning to try, at least." He nodded absently, but neither of them moved. Suddenly, she remembered something. "Oh," she started, digging through her clutch to pull out a single sheet of paper. She unfolded it and smoothed out the creases, handing it over to him. She couldn't quite meet his eyes when he took it. "My, you know, my STD results. I'm clean, but, well, you can see for yourself," she finished lamely.

"Right," he nodded, reaching into his back pocket to produce his own paper. She took the sheet from him gingerly and poured over the results. If she was going to do this, she had to be fastidious in her safety.

His name was printed at the top: Peeta Mellark. She repeated it in her head a few times. It was melodic, in an odd way. The letters and sounds rolled together nicely. It fit him, somehow, at least based on what little she knew of him from their limited interaction so far.

Satisfied he was clean, she handed the results back to him and folded her own back up when he handed it to her, smiling slightly. Shoving the paper into her purse, she fidgeted with the clasp on her purse, unsure what to do next. It'd been a long time since she'd had to seduce anybody, to actively plot out each of her moves.

"This is weird, huh?" Peeta offered with a sheepish grin. She nodded, hoping her grimace read more like a smile. "I haven't—I mean, I've been with my girlfriend for years now. I feel kind of rusty at this whole thing, I guess," he said, gesturing vaguely with his hands.

Her lips curled into a more genuine smile this time. "Yeah, I was just...thinking the same thing, actually. I don't even know how to seduce my own husband," she joked but winced at the pathetic truth in her words. She was so inept at flirting.

He smiled widely at her, his brow creasing in disbelief. "I sincerely doubt that."

"No, I'm serious. My go-to line is 'Hey, wanna do it?'" Her awkward laugh sounded strange to her ears, but he laughed, too, and she thrilled slightly at the sound.

"And you don't think that's sexy? That's insanely sexy," he insisted, a small dimple burgeoning in his left cheek as his grin widened. Katniss scoffed and rolled her eyes, but he was already shaking his head. "I mean it! Seriously, ask me right now."

She decided to humor him; with another roll of her eyes, she huffed and deepened her voice to make her words sound as unsexy as possible: "Hey, wanna do it?"

"Yes," he answered readily, and she started to laugh until she noticed how intensely he was staring at her.

"Oh." Right. They were actually supposed to have sex. "Okay." All her nerves rushed back to her, and she felt her pulse flutter in her neck. She glanced around the room, mostly as a way to avoid looking at him. Her eyes landed on the large glass bowl of prophylactics, conveniently displayed on a dresser. "Well, there's—there's some condoms," she stammered, waving to the bowl. Her throat felt dry, and she swallowed past the lump, watching as Peeta crossed to the dresser. But he scooped the bowl up and brought it back to her, setting it between them as he sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"What do you like?" he asked, his gaze encouraging. She stared wide-eyed at the many options, shrugging slightly. She and Gale hadn't used condoms for a while now. Her fingers sifted through the foil and plastic packages indiscriminately until she settled on a ribbed, lubricated variety. It seemed harmless enough. Then she remembered the differing sizes and dug around until she found another ribbed one. She held the two sizes up to him, trying to smile through her anxiety.

"So, how big are you exactly? What am I in for here?" she joked, ready to toss the extra-large back into the pile. But Peeta flushed a dark red, cringing as he took it from her hand.

"Uh, pretty big, actually," he said quietly, and she blinked in disbelief. She knew most guys were a little generous in their sizing estimates, but his embarrassment rang true.

"Oh," she repeated dumbly, unable to stop her eyes from dropping to his lap. His slacks were still pulled tight across his groin, and now she could make out a distinct bulge against his thigh. She didn't know whether it excited or terrified her.

He looked remorseful. "We don't have to do this. I'm cool with whatever you decide, really."

Suddenly, she felt insulted. She scowled at him. "What do you take me for, some kind of amateur? You don't think I can wrangle that trouser snake you think you've got hidden in your pants?" she snapped. Gale was an impressive size, too. She could handle it.

Peeta was smiling at her, quite obviously fighting back laughter. She blushed, realizing how ridiculous she must sound to this man, this stranger, really, but he shrugged. "Okay, I believe you." She huffed in exasperation, blowing some hair out of her face, and he touched her arm lightly. "Hey, sorry. I'm not trying to get you worked up—I mean, not like that, anyway," he said, and then he backtracked, his eyes widening slightly, "Uh, that was—I'm sorry. I  _mean,_  I just want to make you comfortable."

Him being flustered put her at ease somewhat, and she couldn't stop the amused smile that spread across her face. Her hand drifted up to play with her braid out of habit. "We're going to end up talking ourselves out of this, you know," she said wryly, and he arched an eyebrow, his lips pursed.

"You're right," he mused, running the hand through his hair again. "I don't want to do that, though." His honesty was admirable, at least. He wet his lips with his tongue, and she found her gaze riveted to that point on his face, admiring the shape of his mouth. "Maybe I could...what if we kiss and see how that goes?"

Her breath felt scarce all of a sudden, but she tried to reign in her facial expression. A kiss wasn't so daunting—a kiss was simple enough. "Okay, yeah," she breathed. Relief smoothed out the tension in his face, and he shifted closer to her, setting the bowl down on the floor. She closed her eyes automatically, steeling herself for the touch of a stranger's mouth on hers. She wasn't prepared for the feel of his callused fingertips tracing her lips, however. Her eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at her before he replaced his fingers with his lips.

They were soft. Patient but thrillingly insistent, moving against hers until she parted them eagerly, touching her tongue to his. He tasted like Cabernet Sauvignon. He was gentle, attentive and hungry, at once so similar to and yet so different from Gale.

She trembled with the sudden rush of want that pooled low in her gut.

When they pulled apart, they stared at each other, their breaths shallow and fast. Peeta broke the trance with a simple question. "More?"

She didn't even need to think; she just nodded, and his lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile before they pressed to hers again. The kiss was more urgent this time, his tongue pushing into her mouth. His hands came up to cup her cheeks as their mouths twisted together, and she gripped his wrists just to have something to hold onto.

His tongue was hot in her mouth, licking every crevice, every groove; she couldn't remember how long it had been since she had been discovered for the first time so thoroughly. Her hands slid down his forearms to his elbows, then she dragged them up the hard lines of his chest, his body heat deliciously warm against her palms even through his shirt. When she curled her fingers around his shoulders, she pulled herself closer, her thigh flush against his. He retracted his tongue, his mouth opening wider—to say something, maybe—but she pulled the Cupid's bow of his lip into her mouth, sucking on the skin as she traced the dip with her tongue. Peeta moaned softly, and when she released him, he captured her bottom lip between his teeth to tug on it teasingly.

Something inside her quivered; she wasn't even aware she was maneuvering her body onto his lap until her thighs were splayed across his hips, her crotch nestled against the bulge in his slacks. They broke the kiss simultaneously to stare at each other, trepidation heavy in their eyes but desire hot on their breaths. His erection was snug against her groin, and her body was tense with her efforts to refrain from rubbing against him. Peeta's hands fluttered on her waist, her hips, as his eyes searched her face.

Shakily, she licked her lips and wrapped her hand around his tie, smoothing it between her fingers. He watched as she tugged at the knot, loosening it hesitantly. "More?" she asked quietly, meeting his gaze. His nostrils flared slightly and then he nodded as she worked the tie away from his neck. His large hands carded out over her bare thighs, pushing her dress up farther so the crotch of her panties was exposed. She was suddenly very aware of how damp she was and wondered if it was visibly apparent, but she kept her eyes on her hands, sliding the silk material of the tie over his head. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes kept flitting between her face and her groin; she could feel him growing harder against her.

She couldn't fight the urge anymore; she shifted her hips, and they both groaned in relief as his hardness ground between her thighs.

His mouth was on hers again, all teeth and tongue and pants as she continued to rock against him. She whimpered, her fingers blindly fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. She only got as far as the top button at his collar when she was distracted by his hands slipping under her dress to palm her ass and push her more forcefully against his cock. The fold of his fly caught on the hood of her clit underneath her underwear with each thrust, and it felt impossibly good.

When was the last time she had actually dry-humped somebody? She couldn't remember, but it was oddly arousing now; she felt like a teenager all over again.

Her head jerked back when she felt his fingers pressing against her clit then, rubbing her through her panties. "Oh!" she gasped; she hadn't been prepared for that. Peeta latched onto her neck, tonguing the hollow of her throat as his hand rippled between her legs. Katniss fisted his collar in her hands, her hips bucking wildly in his lap as she swiveled desperately against his hand. She was so close,  _so, so close_ ; the pleasure was tightening between her thighs, spreading out right beneath his fingertips, and then it uncoiled quickly, snapping up her spine. She grunted, her eyes screwing shut as her orgasm surged through her, every muscle in her body going rigid until she slumped against him limply, panting and trembling from the lingering tremors.

She rested her forehead on his shoulder as she gathered her bearings. His breathing seemed to get heavier even as hers slowed, but he didn't speak. As the haze cleared from her mind, she began to worry—what was he thinking? Was he freaked out? Should  _she_ be freaked out? Another man other than her husband just got her off. The thought made her chest tighten, but she couldn't think clearly enough to figure out how she felt about that.

Finally, Peeta exhaled shakily as he withdrew his hand to rest it on her hip again. "Jesus  _fuck_ , that was hot," he sighed. His chin was pressed against the side of her head, his jaw flexing with his words. "I didn't think that would be so hot. Shit, that sounds weird. I just mean...I thought I'd feel weird. Doing that. But I really don't. Fuck, I'm so hard right now. Does that bother you?"

He was rambling. She wanted to laugh, but her hands were already moving, unlooping the buttons on his shirt; she felt emboldened by the bliss and desire still coursing through her veins. "Let's have sex, okay?" she suggested instead, her voice thick and languid like honey, and she heard his breath hitch.

"Yes. Let's do that," he agreed after a moment, and she smiled to herself. Good. She was feeling more confident and comfortable with every minute that passed.

Maybe this wouldn't be so weird, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly smut. I'm just trying to make the chapters shorter so I can move faster, and this is just how this particular chunk of writing broke up. Lemons are fun, but there is actual plot to this story, I promise. And the next chapter will be from Peeta's POV; I'll be alternating between the two.

That orgasm had worked wonders on Katniss' resolve.

Her movements were more confident now, more purposeful as she parted Peeta's dress shirt, exposing the naked expanse of his chest. He was broad, and warm, and she was mesmerized by the smattering of light blonde hair there and the rosy pinkness of his nipples, a stark contrast to Gale's; his nipples were dark, much like her own, and Gale always shaved his chest. She combed her fingers through the short hairs of Peeta's chest; they were soft.

Katniss lifted her head to look at him then. His blue eyes were darker now, his pupils fat as he watched her. He smiled slowly, and it was full of sex and heat. She tried to inhale deeply to ease the sudden twisting of nerves and desire in her stomach, reminding herself that she was in control, and she sat back to slide her heels off. They clattered to the carpeted floor while Peeta hastily shrugged his shirt off. She didn't know if she should stand up to remove her own clothes or not; she was reluctant to climb off him, anchored by his warmth and the hard feel of his thigh muscles and his cock beneath her.

But he made the decision for her, his hands pushing her dress farther up her hips and her waist, and then he was tugging it over her breasts. She lifted her arms over her head so he could pull it off. "Oh," he breathed, greeted by the sight of her bare chest. She hadn't bothered with a bra with her dress; she felt vulnerable under his stare, but when he licked his lips hungrily, she felt a responding tug in her center. His fingers spasmed on her thighs, and when he looked at her face, she understood the questioning in his eyes.

"You just gave me an orgasm," she said drily, amusement twitching the corners of her mouth up. "Yes, you can touch my tits."

His lips spread into a grin. "I'm a gentleman, what can I say?" But when his palms cupped and kneaded her breasts roughly, he certainly didn't  _feel_ like a gentleman.

She liked that.

She moaned as his fingers rubbed and prodded her pebbled nipples, and she nearly arched off his lap when his lips sealed around one. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tucked her tight against his torso while he sucked on her nipple earnestly. She threaded her fingers through his hair as she whimpered softly, trying to press him closer. Soft, pleased sounds stuck in the back of his throat as he lavished her breasts with his mouth. Katniss throbbed so acutely at her core, and he was so hard underneath her—as much as she enjoyed the wet pull of his lips on her nipples, she desperately wanted to move things along; her hands fisted around his curls and tugged his head back so she could bring his lips up to hers. She dipped her tongue into his mouth to stroke his tongue searchingly, a moan catching in her throat.

She wasn't sure which one of them propelled their bodies forward, but his back hit the mattress the next moment, and she crouched over him, tugging and pulling at his pants. Kicking his shoes off, Peeta crawled backward up the bed to wiggle out of his slacks as she yanked them off his feet along with his socks, and then she was on him again, hooking her fingers around the waistband of his boxer-briefs to strip him entirely. It was as if some outside force was guiding her movements; she had stopped thinking completely. But when she had his underwear off, faced with the full show of his glorious cock, she almost choked on her tongue.

He hadn't lied.

It was as if all of her motor skills stopped working simultaneously as she gawked at it. The silence and tension were heavy in the air for that moment until Peeta pushed her down to the bed, rolling her underneath him. Her wide eyes fixed to his face then, taking in his lidded eyes, his wet, swollen lips. His breathing was ragged, and underneath the lust that clouded his eyes hung a veil of apprehension.

"Thought you said you could handle it," he murmured, and her body tightened when she felt his cock brush against the inside of her thigh; her breath stuck in her throat, and she had to cough slightly to clear it.

"I can," she boasted falsely, sliding her hands around his back to hold onto him as he hovered over her. Her eyes darted between their bodies of their own accord to drink in the sight of his erection again. "It's just...it's very thick." It was definitely more than she was used to.

He laughed lightly, his head dropping to her shoulder. She shivered when his lips brushed against her neck, his breath warm. "So I've heard." He seemed reluctant to move forward, perhaps discouraged by her hesitation; she enjoyed the gentle undulations of his lips and tongue on her collarbone as he worried it idly. Screwing up her courage, she finally reached between them to take his cock in hand. Peeta grunted in shock and jerked his hips against her, his arm extending beside her head to brace himself on the pillow.

Katniss gripped him tightly—her thumb barely touched her middle finger—and started to stroke him, her heart rate quickening with the uptick in his breathing against her neck. "Sorry my hands are so dry," she whispered nervously—normally, she had to moisturize them constantly, but perhaps her palms were sweaty enough now to counteract the dryness. Peeta groaned his disagreement, thrusting in time with her strokes.

"No—feels good," he gasped, but then he sat up abruptly, forcing her to release him. She gaped at him in confusion as he searched the bed wildly, but then she understood when he snatched up the condom he had been holding earlier. Her eyes widened as the weight of the moment settled on her; they were actually about to do it, have sex in some old guy's mansion, and she didn't even know anything about Peeta beyond his name and that he had a huge dick.

The realization sent an unexpected shiver of excitement up her spine.

"Do you need lube?" Peeta asked, breaking her out of her reverie, his hands tearing open the condom package. "I imagine there's something around here..."

"Um..." She glanced to her left at a nightstand and rolled onto her side to rifle through it. Her hand landed on something cold and hard, and, curious, she pulled it out. Handcuffs. "Oh," she said stupidly, dropping them back into the drawer immediately. No, she wasn't quite ready for  _that_. She shuffled through some other fuzzy, silicone and silky objects until she found a bottle of lubrication.

Lying on her back again, she realized he was waiting for her, the condom already stretched down over his cock. She suddenly felt very shy as she applied the lube to herself first, her legs spread wide before him as her fingers coated her opening generously. His cock actually jumped as he hungrily observed her movements, his palms bracing himself against her knees. She sat up on her elbows, her slick hand open to him in offering. "Um?" she asked, hoping he understood wordless sounds, and he scooted closer so she could reach him. Once she had smeared enough of the lube over his length and awkwardly wiped her hand on the comforter, he lowered himself over her. He licked his lips, his face mere inches from hers.

"We, uh—you still wanna do this, yeah?" he asked, already situating himself between her legs. His cock rested on her pelvis, and she could feel it twitching against her abdomen; she pressed her breasts up against his chest to provide some relief for her overly sensitive nipples.  _It's not cheating, it's not cheating, it's not cheating_ , she repeated like a mantra, the abrupt thought of her husband making her stomach knot anxiously. Gale wanted this. Gale had taken her here. Gale was having sex with someone else. They had an understanding. It  _wasn't_  cheating.

Once the nerves had loosened in her stomach, she took a deep breath and smiled at Peeta uneasily. "Well, I didn't lube myself up for nothing," she joked lightly. He flashed a quick grin at her before kissing her again, molding her lips between his as his tongue plied hers into eager acceptance. She felt him position his cock between her thighs, and she reflexively tensed when his head pressed into her folds. He stilled his movements, however, and broke away from her mouth to kiss a trail down her neck and chest. When his wet mouth suctioned around her nipple, she arched upward with a moan. It felt so unbelievably good, she was almost distracted when he started to push into her, slowly, inch by inch. Katniss groaned and opened her legs wider for him as if it would help, willing her muscles to relax.

Once their hips were flush, Peeta hissed his approval around her breast, the hot breath on her wet nipple causing her skin to erupt with goosebumps. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he groaned, and she made a strained whimpering sound, nodding her head as she curled her fingers through his hair; she felt full and stretched, and it was mildly uncomfortable, but she tilted the angle of her pelvis regardless, wanting him deeper somehow.

He began to move, pulling out and pushing into her again; she gasped when he returned, and her eyes fluttered closed as he continued sucking on her nipple, his teeth scraping at the hardened bud, his moans muffled against her flesh. His hand groped her other breast, and his thrusts picked up, their hips colliding in a faster rhythm; Katniss grunted and sighed every time his cock pushed into her, her walls molding to fit him, and she dipped her head back to suck in air greedily. Peeta released her breast, taking advantage of the angle of her neck to kiss and nip at the expanse of olive skin. She could hear his tiny exhalations of "Fuck" against her throat, her jaw, her shoulder, every time she would clench around his cock, and she dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his back to spur him onward.

His exclamations and moans got increasingly louder the wilder his thrusts got; she yelped a little too sharply when he shifted the angle of his cock and slammed his hips into hers. Panting, he looked at her then, his dark blue eyes devouring the sight of her face twisted in pleasure, the shape of her mouth stretched in a silent sound.

But he stopped abruptly, pulling out of her, and she whined at the gaping loss, trying to pull him back. "Wait—"

Peeta slid down her body, and when his face was at her center, her stomach swooped dangerously. "I just need to taste you," he said thickly, and every synapse in her body screamed. But she didn't stop him, and at the first flick of his tongue through her spread folds, she opened for him completely, a scream clawing through her throat, sticking on her tongue. When his tongue slithered inside her, she found purchase in his hair again, and when he dragged his tongue over her clit, she bowed off the bed with a strangled moan.

His approval reverberated in his mouth, resounding through her center, and she shuddered as she tugged desperately on his curls. His hands were wrapped around her thighs, holding her open to his mouth, her legs hooked over his shoulders; she could hear the wet sounds of his tongue on her folds as he licked her, swallowing her arousal eagerly, and it made her clit throb that much more.

She wanted to scream in frustration when he broke the cadence of his tongue on her, but then she realized he was speaking, the words slow in reaching her through the fog of lust in her brain. "What do you like, Katniss?" he growled low in his throat, the demand finally registering with her, and her heart stuttered at the possessiveness that crept into his voice. "I want to know everything. I  _need_  to know."

She stared wordlessly at the ceiling, her mind reeling, her lips opening and closing helplessly. He wanted her to give voice to her desires—how could she do that? It was impossible. She hated talking during sex; she knew it frustrated Gale, but by this point he knew her well enough to know what she wanted without having to ask.

She met his piercing stare hopelessly, her hands twisting in the sheets around her. "I..." but she trailed off, inhaling shakily when he nuzzled his mouth against her. She hoped he wouldn't push it, already anticipating the continuation of his mouth's delicious torture, but the route of his tongue through her folds was short-lived.

"Tell me," he urged, and she whimpered, bucking her hips in attempt to get him to resume. Why was he doing this? She gasped when his tongue darted inside her, but he quickly withdrew it, and she wailed in agony, swallowing the embarrassment of her weakness. " _Say it, Katniss."_

"I—"

He sucked her clit between his lips, hard, ripping a mortifying shriek from her lungs. Everything came tumbling out at once, coaxed by the insistent pull of his mouth around her clit. " _That_! I like that!" she panted desperately, straining against his face. "I like, I like having my pussy licked and, and sucked—like that—" she gasped when he suckled more urgently, pumping a couple digits inside her, "I like—I like being fucked hard, I like being bent over and pounded into, I like having my hair pulled, I like having my breasts squeezed and my nipples bitten, and, and— _ngh_ , God,  _Peeta,_ " she moaned louder than she thought herself capable of, unable to continue when the ball of pleasure at her core began to unfurl; she came a second later, cresting high on the wave of ecstasy his mouth brought her to; her walls contracted around his fingers as he continued to fuck her with them, his tongue tracing delicate patterns on her clit while she rode out the rest of her orgasm in spasms, until she slumped to the mattress, boneless.

Her limbs felt useless, so when he forced her onto her hands and knees, they trembled from the effort of having to hold herself up; in the haze of her delirious relief, she mewled her protest, wanting nothing more than to just fall back into the oblivion and curl up in the sheets. His cock was back at her entrance then, pushing into her from behind, grounding her back in the moment. Katniss groaned and dropped her head to the mattress as he set a brutalizing pace, his hands gripping her hips to hold her in place while he drove into her relentlessly. The slapping of his pelvis against her ass, his balls hitting her thigh, provided the background noise for his frenzied thrusts, punctuated by his ragged grunts and her muffled shouts.

"Shit, I'm gonna come," he gasped after a few minutes, and she nodded into the mattress, moaning her approval; he grunted sharply, jerking her hips back against his then, but he stopped his wild thrusts, gently rocking into her as his cock pulsed and emptied into the condom. His relieved moan was more of a whine; she thought it was the sexiest sound she had ever heard.

How could a stranger make her feel this way?

When he pulled out of her a moment later with a sigh, she felt strangely empty, and she collapsed to the bed, her legs sliding out underneath her as exhaustion weighed her down. Her eyes were closed, and she heard him moving around—probably looking for a place to dispose of the condom—and then he lay down beside her, his warm skin pressed against hers. He was breathing hard, and she could feel it on her shoulder. For some reason, she was almost scared to look at him. His hand slid across her back then, settling in the dip above her ass.

"You okay?" he whispered, and she heard the concern there. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she opened her eyes and nodded; she forced herself to turn her head to the other side to look at him. His smile was tight, a little anxious, so she tried to offer him one in return. It seemed to put him at ease. "That was..." he trailed off, and she nodded again.

"Yeah," she said softly, her face feeling hot all of a sudden. What came next? She felt so tired, but she knew she wasn't supposed to spend the night here—not that she wanted to, God, no. But she had never actually had a one-night stand before. She didn't know how to go about casually getting dressed and leaving.

Sighing, Peeta rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, then he looked back at her. His face was twisted in consternation, but his mouth listed to the side in a wry smile. "Well, I guess this is where the awkwardness sets in," he joked, and she flashed him a nervous smile, burying her face into the comforter. She suddenly felt very naked and cold.

"Yeah," she, pushing up on her elbows and trying to shield her bare breasts, which was silly, really, after everything. "Do they have a handbook for first-time swingers somewhere?"

He laughed sheepishly and sat up, sliding off the edge of the bed. "I actually did a lot of research beforehand, but I didn't think to look up the proper protocol for this part," he mused as he crossed to the foot of the bed; she tried not to watch, but he had a nice ass. And his back and shoulders were so mouth-wateringly inviting. Sitting up on her knees, she pulled the comforter to her chest while he pulled on his underwear and pants. After a moment, she realized he was leaning over the bed to hand her her dress and panties. She took the proffered clothes with a smile, and he dutifully turned away to finish dressing so she could quickly slip on her own clothes.

_And_ he'd made her come twice. What a gentleman.

The things she blurted out while he was going down on her rushed back to her suddenly, and her entire face flamed up—shit, what must he think of her?

She spared him a sideways glance, watching him inconspicuously as he buttoned up his shirt. She scowled indignantly at her thought process. Why should she feel embarrassed? He was the one who made her reveal those things; he asked for it.

Crawling off the bed, she stood up straight, wobbling only slightly as she smoothed down her dress. Peeta leaned against the dresser, fixing his tie, and he offered her a shy smile. His hair was haphazardly disheveled by her fingers. She thought it looked rather becoming.

Katniss located her shoes and stuffed her feet into them, feeling very talked out. She wasn't sure what to say to him, but she could feel his eyes on the crown of her head as she bent down to hook the finger in the backs of her shoes, wedging her heels into them.

"Can I—" he started, and she glanced up sharply when he stepped toward her. She blinked as he reached a hand out to her, but he hesitated, smiling demurely. Then he smoothed a hand over her hair, trying to tuck some strands back into her braid. "Sorry. Your braid kind of got messed up. I didn't know if you cared," he explained as he straightened her hair. She willed herself not to flush.

"Um, thanks," she muttered, her eyes finding her reflection in the dresser mirror. Wisps of hair still stuck out, giving her the appearance of having been thoroughly fucked. But she guessed that was the point. She looked back at him and gestured at his head, too. "I, uh...messed up your hair, too. Sorry. It looks good on you, though."

He grinned, his cheeks blossoming with a ruddy color. He cleared his throat. "Uh, well...This was really...fun," he offered, and she laughed awkwardly, rubbing her eyes before she remembered she had eyeliner on. Damn. She tried to correct the smudges with her fingertips.

"Yeah, I guess...thanks for making this girl's first time at a swingers party so, um, memorable," she said, flooded with a new rush of embarrassment; she needed to leave, now. Peeta chuckled softly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Anytime, Katniss. Anytime."

She was sure that was a joke. Probably.

She ignored the flicker of intrigue that flared up inside her at his words.

"I should go," she mumbled, averting her gaze, and he nodded in agreement. When he leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek, she stiffened but then immediately relaxed, touched by the tender gesture.

"It was nice meeting you, Katniss," he murmured, stepping away, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she snatched up her purse.

"You, too...Peeta. Bye." At the door, she couldn't resist; she glanced back at him over her shoulder. He was watching her, and he held up his hand in parting. Smiling tightly, she nearly stumbled out of the room, very aware of how damp and uncomfortable her panties felt. She needed to use the bathroom and clean up, but she really wanted out of that house. As she hurried down the hallway, she kept her head down to avoid eye contact with the others who were starting to file out of their respective rooms. She didn't see Gale, but some of the rooms were still shut, and she could hear heavy moans and thumping headboards behind some of them.

She almost considered texting him to let him know she was leaving but thought better of it.

The driveway that led away from the mansion was long and winding, and she finally had to take off her heels after she nearly skinned her knees in her haste to get to her car. She passed Gale's car on her trek; so, he was definitely still inside.

The realization probably should have bothered her, but she was just too tired to care, and she was relieved once she finally slid into the comfort of her own car. The drive home took about 20 minutes, and she promptly crawled into her bed and passed out after she had cleaned up in the bathroom.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep when Gale finally crawled into bed. He shook her awake, and she rolled over and squinted at him. "Hi," she greeted him groggily, and he smiled at her.

"Hey, sorry to wake you. I just wanted to see how you were," he whispered, stretching out beside her and wrapping his arm around her waist. "You stayed at the mansion, right?" She nodded. "Good. How was it?"

She tensed against him, suddenly awakened by his line of questioning. He sensed her hesitation and chuckled throatily. "It's okay. You can tell me. I just want to know how it went, if you had a good time or not. It's important to me that you enjoyed yourself."

She licked her dry lips and nodded again. "I did. It was...good," she hedged carefully, still uncomfortable. "The guy was...nice."

Gale nuzzled her neck. "Good. I'm glad you had a good time."

She sighed and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. "What about you? Did you...have fun with that woman?" she asked, not sure if she really wanted to know.

"Yes. I did," he murmured against her jaw.

She guessed she was relieved. If he enjoyed himself, then she didn't have to feel guilty for enjoying herself, either. Right?

Gale lifted his head, and his lips found hers in the dark. She opened her mouth under his easily, meeting his tongue in their familiar rhythm. She pulled away after a moment, however, frowning pensively. "You taste like lipstick," she mumbled, and even without a light she could see his eyes widen.

"Shit, I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Just...not a good taste," she explained softly, and he nodded, releasing her from his hold.

"Let me go brush my teeth, and I'll be back." Gale slipped out of the bed and padded into the bathroom. The door shut behind him, and Katniss sighed, licking her lips again. Then she swiped her tongue over her teeth, working up some saliva to swallow.

It was strange; she could still taste the Cabernet Sauvignon Peeta had been drinking earlier that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Peeta's POV; the next will be as well.

"Mellark, I need that copy ASAP!" Haymitch bellowed from his office. Peeta gritted his teeth, swiveling around at his desk.

"Stop asking for it every two minutes, and maybe you'd have it by now, old man," he yelled back, eliciting a few quiet chuckles from his coworkers, who were spread out around him in the newsroom. His editor cursed something incoherent but dropped the issue, at least. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Peeta sighed and turned back to his computer to skim the words on his screen again. Then his fingers were flying across the keyboard, the keys clicking loudly as he expanded on the last paragraph he'd written.

There. Done. He scrolled back up to the beginning and quickly scanned through the article. It was a review for the new zombie romance flick opening that coming weekend. As the arts and entertainment reporter for The Panem Chronicle, the main newspaper for their town, Peeta was responsible for reviewing all the new movie releases—even if they sucked. But at least he got to see movies for free.

Zombie rom-com—he didn't know if this was going to be a new genre of films that took off in the next few years or what; he hoped not.

Once he'd deemed the article passable, he saved it and closed out, leaning back in his desk chair. "It's on the server, Haymitch—get off my dick already!" he shouted. The older man sent a balled-up piece of paper in his direction, but it fell pathetically short of its intended target. Peeta snickered and turned back to his computer to check his email. He began sifting through the messages, deleting spam and sorting the rest into the appropriate folders.

Now that he'd met his deadline, he had a moment to let his mind unwind and wander. Usually, it buzzed with story leads and sources and research he was compiling on whatever article he had to work on next. But for the past few days, it had been wandering to one specific place instead—and that place was a warm, enticing place full of thoughts of one Katniss Everdeen.

Swallowing a groan, he pressed the heel of his palm into his eyes to ward off the assault of images, but it was no use. There she was, gyrating on his lap, stripping his clothes off, clenching around him, opening under his mouth. Shit, and the things she'd  _said_ , the way she'd tasted; he could still recall her distinct flavor, even through the sweetness of the lube and the mild prophylactic taste. It had been days, and he swore it still lingered on his tongue.

What was this fucking voodoo magic she had woven over him?

"How's my favorite boyfriend?" a voice purred in his ear, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He saw the Cheshire grin from the corner of his eye, and he glared at the short-haired woman at his side.

"Jesus, Johanna, not in the office," he hissed, his eyes darting around the newsroom to make sure no one was watching them. Not that it really mattered. Johanna was inappropriate with everybody; no one would really think much of it. Still, he was uncomfortable.

Johanna cackled and braced herself against his desk, sitting on the edge. She feigned a look of hurt then. "What—you get one night of strange, and you're ready to dump me already?" she accused, her eyes narrowed with mock offense.

He rolled his eyes and scratched the stubble that stippled his jaw. "Seriously, can you try to be a little more discreet about this?" he asked, but he already knew the answer to that; he wasn't even sure the word existed in her vocabulary.

She scoffed. "Really, Mellark, when have I ever been discreet?" He shook his head in response, and she smiled indulgently, pushing off the desk. "I need a smoke. Keep me company?"

"Sure," he said, silently thanking her. He followed her out of the room and out of the building, through a side door into a private alcove where she could smoke in peace. She pulled a pack of American Spirits out of the pocket of her light jacket and selected a cigarette. She offered him one, but he shook his head and leaned back against the side of the building, watching as she lit her cigarette with a flick of her lighter.

"So," she said purposefully, blowing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth, then she grinned at him again. "You've been all out of sorts since Saturday. I'm beginning to think you might not be cut out for the swinger lifestyle."

Peeta chuckled, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. "You might be right about that."

She shook her head, taking another drag of her cigarette. "I don't know. I think I've finally found my calling in life, really. Having wild, no-strings-attached sex with strangers and peacing out immediately afterward? I could do this every day."

He shot her a disbelieving look. "Don't you do that already, Jo?" he deadpanned, and she shrugged, flicking the ashes from her cigarette indifferently.

"Yeah, but in this group, you're never gonna accidentally fuck somebody who thinks it's something more," she reasoned, and he rolled his eyes.

"Ever the romantic," he said wryly, and she scoffed.

"And like you're looking for love in the swingers crowd?"

He laughed, swatting at the cloud of smoke she blew in his direction. "Of course not. Just a little research, is all," he replied, but his thoughts flitted back to Katniss again. Fuck. Why was he so stuck on her? Maybe it had just been that long since he'd had sex, at least with a woman worth remembering. His last relationship had been a couple years ago; he and Madge were still friends, but they had simply fizzled out, and she had been largely unhappy with his work schedule. As a reporter, his hours were often long and unpredictable, but there wasn't much he could do about that. He'd dated sporadically since then, but there hadn't been anyone who'd really kept his attention.

"What's the plan for this weekend?" Johanna asked, shaking him from his reverie.

"Well, I think we'll head back to Snow's. I mean, there are a bunch of places we can scope out—have you heard of The Capitol? That's a pretty popular sex club, and I want to go there eventually. But Snow appears to be the unofficial leader of all of this, so I'd like to get a better feel for him and what he's doing, maybe meet some more people through him and see where else they go, see who's willing to talk to me," Peeta said, his eyes narrowed at the stone wall as he contemplated their next move. "You game for that?"

She made a noise of disbelief. "Yeah, was there ever any doubt?" He smiled, and she puffed on her cigarette. "Thanks for inviting me along, Mellark. You're such a doll, helping me get laid."

He laughed. "I should be thanking you. They'd never let me in if I just showed up alone, like I'm some creep trying to prey on unsuspecting women."

She gave him a pointed look, folding her arm over her waist. "Aren't you, though?" She punctuated her question with an arched eyebrow.

He made a face. "No! Shit, Jo, come on. I wasn't even sure I would actually go through with it..." he faltered as he recalled that night. Her bark of laughter was one of skepticism.

"Yeah, right. Like you were gonna pass up the opportunity to bang some chick," she taunted around her cigarette.

He scowled and anxiously ran a hand through his curls a couple times to muss them. "I don't know. I kind of thought it'd take me a couple tries to work up the nerve to actually follow through with it..." he trailed off, thinking about Katniss again. He'd really only gone to the mansion to gather some first-person research on the swingers lifestyle for a story he was working on; it was a little different from the usual puff pieces he wrote, but Haymitch had been intrigued by the idea when Peeta brought it to him, about the underground swingers population that so many people knew of but nobody actually  _talked_ about. Johanna had agreed to go with him to act as his girlfriend to give him cover; she had been thrilled at the invite, which he wasn't that surprised about. She was a fairly sexually liberated person, and he had a suspicion she would be down for anything. He'd been right—and relieved. Her presence had been largely calming on him the entire time he'd been at the mansion; she could handle any curveball thrown her way.

Peeta thought they might leave before the night turned toward the actual "swinging" portion, but when he caught Johanna dropping her keys into the bowl with a wink in his direction, he knew he was stuck. There had been an even number of people at that party that night, all couples, so he knew if he snuck out, someone was going to be left without a partner. And he couldn't do that to some poor woman—what a crushing blow to her ego.

So when he saw Katniss alone in the living room, this petite, raven-haired, olive-skinned woman who was nursing her wine glass like it was her job, the last one to be chosen, it was with a sense of obligation and intrigue that he drew her keys and approached her. She had seemed wary of him from the start, so he'd thought maybe she'd back out of the arrangement; he tried to give themselves ample opportunities to decline, if she really wanted to. But she seemed determined. And stubborn. And feisty.

And...fuck, she was hot. In a very unassuming way—it wasn't even necessarily the way she looked, though her gray eyes were incredibly captivating; it was the way she carried herself, like she absolutely did not give a fuck about impressing him or anybody else there. She completely disarmed him, and while he felt horrible for lying to her about his (nonexistent) girlfriend situation, it was like the longer he was in that room with her, in her presence, the less clearly he could think.

He had just acted, purely on instinct. He had wanted her, and it had seemed like she'd wanted him just as much. He flushed, thinking about the things they'd done. He didn't normally go down on a woman their first night together. He wasn't even sure what possessed him to do it, other than he felt a consuming, sudden need to know everything about her. He knew he only had that night, and he wanted to do everything he possibly could to her.

It had taken everything in him not to ask for her number afterward—he might not have been a real swinger, but he was fairly certain  _that_  would have been a serious breach of etiquette.

He wondered if she would be back at Snow's this weekend...

Johanna dropped her cigarette butt to the ground then and stomped it out, startling him from his thoughts. "All right, Blondie. I gotta lay out your zombie porn article or whatever the fuck that is," she huffed, snatching up the extinguished cigarette to toss in a nearby trashcan. Peeta snorted quietly and followed her back inside, unable to shake the thought of Katniss from his mind.

God, he was such a sucker.

* * *

"I can't believe you're wearing that," Peeta muttered behind his Manhattan as he took a swig. Johanna raised her eyebrows innocently, doing a deliberate spin to show off her black, skin-tight latex dress that, as far as he could tell, was hanging on by just the peaks of her nipples.

This was more than he ever wanted to see of his coworker, really.

"I wanted to fit in this time," she said with a playful pout, and then she bumped his hip with hers. "You're the one who sticks out like a sore thumb tonight, Blondie."

He surveyed his outfit: standard gray slacks and a black dress shirt—no tie this time—with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He realized casual was the best way to go—well, casual or sex fiend, but as the "sex fiend" look was apparently a matching latex full-body suit, zippered mask and all, he figured casual was his safest bet.

"I told you, you should've let me dress you," she teased, moving just a little too close for comfort. He knew they had appearances to keep up, so he smiled and looped an arm around her waist.

"And steal the show from you? I could never," he replied with a winning grin, and the look she shot him was both deadly and playful. Shit.

She leaned in closer, pressing her breasts against his chest, and he swallowed. "You sure you don't want to skip the party and just go back to my place, Mellark?" she suggested, her voice low. He felt his dick react instinctively, and he wanted to punch himself. He might not want to have sex with her, but it seemed his cock wasn't above entertaining the idea, anyway.

Though, if the choice was between her and some of the women at this party...

"Baby, you know I want to share you with everyone else here tonight," he crooned, his voice dripping with an obnoxious amount of sex. "I get you all the time otherwise."

Her brown eyes glinted with the challenge, and he knew she was fighting back laughter. "You're such a sweetheart, letting other men pound your girlfriend and fill her up with their cum—"

He nearly choked on his tongue, and he took a large gulp of his drink to clear his throat. "Jesus, okay, please stop. You win," he gasped after he'd swallowed the burning liquid.

She looked smug, finally removing her breasts from the wall of his chest. "And don't you forget it." She turned her attention back to the gathering before them, the couples spread out around the room, talking and laughing and flirting. "Now, who's my next conquest? The guy last time was pretty good. Not the most attractive, but his cock was pretty damn nice, oh, you should have seen it..."

Peeta made a noise of protest in the back of his throat and tried to tune her out as she elaborated about this guy's dick, describing every vein and ridge. His eyes darted around the room curiously. He needed to get around and talk to these people, find out why they did what they did. But the prospect of potentially having to fuck one of them later made engaging in casual conversation a little daunting. He wondered how weird it would be to set up an interview in one of the rooms later while simultaneously maneuvering a woman out of her underwear...He realized that this time he was definitely going to have to follow through on the sex; he'd done a little more research the other day and discovered that, apparently, it was really bad form to come to a swingers party with no intention of participating.

Who would have thought? And he certainly didn't want to be rude; his mother might have been a bitch, but she'd still taught him his manners.

The front door opened then, a red-haired server greeting the new arrivals with champagne flutes. Peeta's heart palpitated painfully in his chest when he caught sight of the couple; it was Katniss and her husband—well, he guessed it was her husband. He was tall, towering a foot over her, and fuck if he wasn't rugged as hell with his dark skin, dark hair and his toned physique. He looked completely at ease as they moved through the crowd, his hand clasped tightly around his wife's.

She looked slightly uncomfortable, however, already tipping her champagne glass back to drain it. But she looked beautiful, despite the apprehension etched into her expression—her hair was down and wavy, framing her face loosely. She wore a blazer and a short, flowing dress, which contrasted sharply with the brown, beat-up combat boots on her feet. He smiled at the sight.

Guess she decided to ditch the heels this time.

He had to quash the urge to go over and talk to her. Not that her husband would necessarily mind, given they were at a swingers party and everything, but Peeta knew it was stupid and pointless to act like anything could come of this. He couldn't get attached to her. She was  _married,_ for fuck's sake.

He watched as a tall, wiry man approached them and introduced himself to the couple, waving over a short brunette who was apparently his date for the night. The four of them chatted—well, the couple chatted with Katniss' husband while she nodded and smiled politely, snatching another glass of champagne off a passing server's tray. Her gray eyes flitted around the room, taking in the attendees, and Peeta's stomach clenched when her gaze landed on him.

Her eyes widened—he wasn't sure if he should smile or nod in greeting—but she quickly looked away the next second, shielding her face with her drink as she took a sip. His heart fell a little; he didn't know what he expected. She had enjoyed herself with him, though, right? He knew they had left on a slightly awkward note, but she seemed to like the sex, at least. He'd thought so, anyway.

Sighing, he glanced to his right but frowned when he realized Johanna was no longer by his side. It didn't take long to locate her, however—she was a few steps away, chatting animatedly with a slender, long-haired woman and the Greek Adonis on her arm, whose perfectly straight teeth practically gleamed white in the overhead lights. Jesus Christ.

Johanna turned to him then, and Peeta realized she was bringing them his way. He smiled immediately, slipping into a more pleasant persona.

"Hey, Blondie—er, that's my nickname for him," Johanna covered quickly, gesturing in his direction as mild alarm flashed through her eyes. Peeta cocked an eyebrow but kept his smile in place. " _Baby_ , I want you to meet Finnick and Annie. This is Peeta—my  _boyfriend_." She pronounced the word just a little too deliberately. God, she was so obvious sometimes. No wonder she was a graphic designer and not a reporter.

Finnick greeted him with a warm hello, pumping his hand heartily. "Hey, man. Your girlfriend's a riot."

"Oh, thanks," he replied, sharing an amused look with Johanna. Annie leaned up to kiss him on his cheek then, pulling him into a hug like they were old friends or something. Peeta tried to act nonchalant, like he was used to this invasion of his personal space, while the four of them talked. Finnick and Annie seemed nice enough, very personable and easygoing; Peeta realized they potentially represented a goldmine of information for his story, so he knew he should engage them more, contribute more to the conversation. But he couldn't stop his attention from drifting, specifically back to Katniss.

This time, she was looking at him. He blinked, his hand tightening around the glass tumbler in his hand. They stared at each other for a tense moment, neither moving, until, finally, she smiled at him. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. Relief flooded through him, and his lips spread into a wide grin. She lifted her hand in a quick wave, and he returned it before she eventually ducked his gaze, looking back at her husband while he talked.

He couldn't stop looking back at her after that point, his gaze persistently flicking in her direction.

And every time, she was looking at him, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!

He was running out of time. If he was going to do it, he just needed to  _do it_. But something was holding him back, his muscles paralyzed, as he watched the keys steadily disappear from the bowl. Peeta swiped a thumb over his brow, glancing inconspicuously at Katniss across the room. She was chewing her bottom lip, her hand worrying the hem of her dress as her eyes bounced between watching the bowl and the bottom of her glass. Her husband was already gone, off in another room, probably stripping the short, busty brunette he'd chosen of her clothes at that very moment. Johanna had been the first whose keys were drawn from the bowl, so Peeta was alone as the crowd around him dwindled, berating himself for not making a move.

But he knew it was a bad idea—a really fucking  _bad_  idea...

He looked over at Katniss again, who combed a hand through her hair and ruffled it nervously, wetting her lips with her tongue.

Fuck it.

Peeta strode to the bowl purposefully and dipped his hand into the bowl, shifting a few sets of keys around until he found them— _there_. He wrapped his hand around the familiar golden bird keychain and snatched the attached keys from the pile, boldly presenting them to her.

Her eyes went round with disbelief as she realized what he had done; her mouth parted to say something, but all that came out was a soft squeak that caught in her throat. His heart started to thunder in his chest then—shit, he shouldn't have done that, that was  _incredibly fucking dumb_ —

Another guy moved to the bowl to draw a set of keys, effectively breaking the trance between him and Katniss. Peeta stepped out of the way, and when he glanced back at her, though her face was still flushed, her expression was calm now. She locked eyes with him, jutting her chin out; some kind of understanding passed between them in that moment, and they headed for the hallway then, Peeta two steps behind her, her keys still clutched possessively in his fist. They didn't speak a word until they were in a room, and once the door was shut, he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have—"

"How did you know which keys were mine?" she demanded suddenly, cutting him off, and his eyebrows shot up. Reaching his hand out, he dangled the keys in front of her, the bird keychain pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

"I remembered this," he explained softly, and she blinked a few times, slowly taking her keys from him. The keychain was a delicately crafted bird, an arrow clutched between its beak.

"Oh," she said quietly, staring at the keychain. Her thumb caressed it, and she kept her head down. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Katniss, I'm...It was an impulsive decision. I don't know what I was thinking."  _Other than I want you, and the thought of another guy here having you was unbearable._  "I totally understand if you're upset that I just—that I did that..." he trailed off, confused when he heard her laugh weakly. She looked up at him, her nose scrunched adorably.

"I'm not upset. I'm...relieved, actually."

His jaw dropped. "I—really?"

Katniss shook her head, stuffing her keys into her purse. "Yeah—I just...I'm not good with people. Which sounds stupid, being here and all. But I guess I'm just worried that the guy I end up with is going to be—an asshole or, or—well, ugly, to be blunt," she said with a sheepish smile, and he couldn't help the amused chuckle. "And at least I know you're nice, and you—well, you look like... _you_."

They both blushed, her more so than him, and he laughed a little to diffuse the awkwardness of the moment, rubbing his hands together for lack of something better to do with them. "I—well, thanks. I think." She flashed him a halfhearted smile and folded her arms around her waist. He cleared his throat, surveying the room. It looked similar to the one they had been in last time, though the furniture was mildly different. "Well, we don't have to do anything, of course. I mean, we don't have to, you know, have—sex. We can talk...or something," he finished lamely, shoving his hands into his pockets. Maybe they could talk, and he could get some kind of understanding as to how someone like her and her husband become swingers...

"What?" she asked sharply, drawing his gaze to her face. He was taken aback at the anger there. "You don't want to have sex with me?"

Perplexed, his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. "Uh—"

"Why did you pick my keys if you don't want to have sex with me?" she snapped, her hands planting themselves on her hips as she glared him down. He held his hands up, palms to her in a placating gesture.

"Whoa—wait, what, no, that's not—I didn't mean—of course, I want to have  _sex_  with you, I just—" She was still scowling at him, so he huffed, exasperated. "I haven't  _stopped_  thinking about having sex with you all week, actually, so  _of course_ , I want to have sex with you again."

She deflated quickly at his assertion, her hands dropping to her sides. "Oh."

He felt a little raw, and incredibly silly, for admitting that to her. He couldn't think about her like that; he couldn't  _talk_  to her like that. He could tell he had made her uncomfortable by the way she was wringing the strap of her purse between her hands, and he wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere. But he couldn't take it back now.

"Well," she finally said, her voice catching slightly. "It was good sex."

Peeta snorted, catching her eye, and he realized she was smiling. They both grinned then, a little shyly, and he scuffed his shoe on the carpet idly before he edged toward the bed. Just to sit. "So..." he started uneasily once he'd perched at the foot of the massive bed.

"Was that your girlfriend?" Katniss asked suddenly, startling him. "Earlier tonight, I mean."

"Uh, yeah—that was Johanna," he said carefully, cringing inwardly at the lie.

She nodded thoughtfully, leaning back against the dresser. "She seems like—well, not your type, honestly," she replied, and he could hear the confusion in her voice. He swallowed thickly and tried to smile.

"Yeah, we're—very different, I guess." She just nodded again, so he continued, "Your husband seems like your type. Well, I don't know him, obviously; I just mean, you guys look good together. A very aesthetically pleasing couple, I guess." What did that even  _mean_? He wasn't completely sure what he was saying; he just wanted to fill the silence.

She shrugged. "I guess." Then she laughed weakly. "I mean, thanks? I guess?" He shrugged one of his shoulders and smiled. Katniss scanned the room in the quiet that followed, her fingers twirling around a lock of hair; he saw a flash of white as her teeth worried her bottom lip, and she hitched the heel of one of her boots up on the dresser behind her, her white dress riding up some to reveal more of her thigh.

Damn. He forced his gaze back to her face and blurted the first thing that came to his mind: "So, why do and your husband swing?"

Her head jerked back, clearly caught off guard by his question. Fuck, he was usually so much smoother in his interviewing techniques; the flash of skin had flustered him. "Why do  _you_?" she volleyed back, an edge of hostility to her voice.

Peeta cleared his throat, scrubbing a hand through his curls anxiously; he had to tread carefully, he knew. "Well...Jo's just...insatiable, I guess." That felt safe. And true, definitely true.

His answer seemed to confuse her. "And you're not?" she asked, her brow furrowed, and he blinked.

"I..." Was he? "I mean, I think I can be...sated. I just—I guess I'm, I'm willing to try whatever it is that she think she needs," he stuttered, feeling a flush creep up his neck. Manipulating words wasn't usually an issue for him, but it felt odd deceiving her; it made his stomach twist painfully, and he had to drop her gaze, rubbing his damp palms on his pants.

"Oh." Her tone sounded lighter now. "I guess...that makes sense. I can understand that."

He arched an eyebrow, returning his gaze to her. "Is that why you do it?" Her eyes went wide, and he was afraid he had insulted her again, so he tried to elaborate, "I mean, you just don't seem  _as_  into this whole swinging thing. At least, compared to some of the other people here." Not that she hadn't been enthusiastic as hell when they'd had sex last weekend. He felt his dick stiffen slightly at the memory of just  _how_  enthusiastic she had been, and he tried to shift discreetly to ward off any obvious bulging in his pants.

Katniss was staring hard at the comforter on the bed as she contemplated his question, and then she finally lifted her shoulders noncommittally. "I guess...a little, maybe? I don't know. Gale suggested it, so I guess...eventually...I was just willing to try it."

Gale. That must be her husband. Peeta nodded carefully, but she didn't elaborate anymore, fidgeting with her purse. Then she put it down behind her and sighed almost inaudibly, her hands gripping the edge of the dresser. He could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off of her, and he wondered if he had made her uneasy or if this was something else. He felt like it was something else. He observed her face, trying to read her expression, but her eyes kept flitting away, a blush tingeing her cheeks, and she kept shifting from foot to foot. She seemed really...tense, all of a sudden. Like she was antsy...like she wanted something...

Licking his lips slowly, he leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. "And what about you?" he asked softly. She looked at him sharply, confusion creasing her brow.

"What about me?"

He inhaled deeply through his nose to steel himself. "Can you be sated?"

Her chest constricted with the sudden breath she took, and her fingers flexed around the dresser. But she didn't break eye contact with him, her nostrils flaring as she took in a hard breath. She didn't answer right away. Then, "...Maybe. It depends."

His mouth quirked slightly. "On what?" She dragged her teeth across her bottom lip, finally looking away, but she didn't respond. Peeta stood up from the bed and stalked toward her. Her body went rigid, but she seemed to jut her torso forward in invitation. "What does it depend on, Katniss?" he asked again gently, bracing his hands against the dresser outside of hers. Their bodies didn't touch, but he leaned close enough that he could feel her breath.

Her eyelids fluttered at his proximity, but she forced her eyes open. The tip of her tongue circled the rim of her lips, and his cock twitched; his fingers dug into the dresser, anticipating her response. Finally, she inhaled through her teeth, her eyelashes beating lightly against her cheeks. "Depends on what you do to me."

 _Fuck_.

Peeta ducked his head down to capture her mouth, and she met his lips eagerly, their tongues clashing. His hands came up to cup her face, to lock her in place so he could devour her, his tongue licking over her teeth and over the roof of her mouth. Somewhere in his brain he registered that she was clumsily shrugging out of her blazer, so he released her face and hastily untucked his shirt from his pants. Unfastening the buttons, he broke the kiss so he could look down at his hands, but she latched onto his neck to pull him back to her mouth. She pushed his hands out of the way to undo the buttons herself, sucking on his tongue urgently.

He groaned, his hands settling on her hips, then he hoisted her up onto the dresser; her legs parted so he could step between them. Once she had his shirt unbuttoned, she helped him push it off his shoulders, and he yanked it off his arms, tossing it somewhere behind him. His hands came to rest on her shoulders before sliding down her chest to palm her breasts through her dress; Katniss gave a shuddering sigh into his mouth, and her lips went slack, allowing him to push his tongue in again. Her arms wound themselves around his neck as she arched into his palms, whining mewls sticking in her throat. The sounds went straight to his dick, making his sac tighten.

But she was too far away, his erection digging into the edge of the dresser; he jerked her closer so he could feel the heat of her through his pants. He pushed her dress up to her hips, his hand sliding up the inside of her thigh until his fingers hit the barrier of her panties. He nudged the crotch to the side to dip his fingers through her folds and hissed in surprise at the amount of arousal that coated his fingertips.

" _Jesus_ , Katniss, you're so wet already," he murmured against her mouth, two of his fingers pulling and tugging on her lips, and she gasped, nodding frantically.

"I—I've been,  _ah_ ," she squeaked when he curled a finger inside her, "been thinking about, about last time." He groaned at her confession, pumping in a second finger.

"Did you like what I did to you last time?" he asked, but he didn't wait for her to answer: He swirled his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the movements of his fingers. She just moaned, her hands splayed against his bare shoulder blades; her fingers were callused, rough over his skin, and it made him shiver. Peeta pulled his wet fingers out and circled them around her clit, eliciting a sharp grunt from her. Her head dipped back, and she began rocking her hips in time with his strokes over her clitoris.

His mouth found the pulse point under her jaw, and he suctioned his lips around it, sucking urgently; he could feel her heartbeat thrumming against his teeth, her moans resounding in her throat. Her breaths grew harsher until she was gasping, and he rubbed the swollen nub under his fingers harder, faster, until her body quaked with the rush of her orgasm. Peeta pushed his fingers back inside her so he could feel her walls pulse and tighten around them; he groaned quietly into her neck as she whimpered and trembled against him. Retracting his hand once she'd calmed down, he sucked his fingers into his mouth to lick off her arousal.

Katniss panted in the afterglow of her release, her head resting against his forehead; up close, her eyes were silver, glazed with lust as she watched him taste her. He kissed her languidly then; how hungrily she stroked his tongue with her own told him just how much she liked the taste. Hooking his fingers under the waistband of her panties, he tugged on them. She pushed off the dresser to lift her hips up, enough for him to pull her panties down her legs; once he worked them over her boots, he let them drop to the floor. She was already pulling her dress up and over her head, so he reached around her to unhook her bra, watching his fingers in the mirror as he did so. In a flurry of hands and clothes, her dress and bra were off mere seconds later, and he took a moment to admire her naked body.

She was tight and toned all over. Her breasts were small, heaving from her quick breaths, but they had a nice lift to them; her dusky nipples were pert, calling for his mouth, and he felt the saliva pool in his mouth.

God damn, he needed to be inside her.

His hands fumbled with his belt. "Can you, ah, can you find a condom?" he asked while he worked his belt loose. She nodded and grabbed the bowl on the dresser, hurriedly sifting through the condoms. Peeta unfastened his pants and shoved them down his legs along with his boxer briefs. He nearly sighed in relief once his cock was released, smacking against his abdomen. He stepped out of his pants and hastily kicked his shoes off. When he turned his attention back to Katniss, she was already ripping open the condom and pulling it out. She pinched the tip, and he let her roll it down over his cock, groaning at the way her hand slid over his swollen flesh. Then he scooted her as close to the edge as possible, his gaze seeking hers for confirmation.

"Do you want me to get the lube?" he asked, his voice hushed. In answer, she wrapped a tiny hand around him and positioned his head at her center. Sucking in a deep breath, he rolled his hips to part her folds with his cock, then he thrust into her completely. They both groaned, her walls contracting around him until he was buried inside her. He pulled out immediately and pushed into her again, quickly setting a steady pace. Katniss gasped, pressing close to him; one of her arms slithered around his shoulders, and the other wrapped around his waist, her head dropping to his shoulder.

Peeta pressed the side of his face against her head, gripping her ass as he thrust into her. He watched them move together in the mirror, her back arching every time their hips connected; he was mesmerized by the way the muscles rippled in her back, and he squeezed her cheeks in his hands tightly.

Suddenly, Katniss pushed away from him, slumping back against the mirror, flattening her palms on the dresser. He marveled at the display of her body before him, her stomach tensing whenever he'd thrust into her; she arched her breasts up, her eyes closing as she moaned, and he couldn't resist, sliding his hand up her rib cage to cup one of her breasts. She hummed her approval, stretching her neck up.

Peeta hooked his other hand under her right knee, lifting her leg up so her calf rested on his shoulder. Katniss gasped, and he slowed the thrusts of his hips. "Does that feel okay?" he asked, and she nodded, biting out a yes.

"Keep going," she encouraged, her voice strained, bucking her hips to his, and he picked his pace back up, thrusting faster. She groaned loudly, and he echoed her, holding onto the boot on his shoulder. Peeta turned his face to press a wet kiss to her calf. God, she was so fucking sexy. And she felt amazing, her walls clenching and unclenching around his cock every time he slid into her.

When her hand reached between their bodies to rub her clit, he whimpered in distress. "Do you want me to do that?" he gasped, pinching her nipple, and she cried out, her fingers moving faster.

"N-no, I like—I like what you're doing—here," she panted as her free hand covered the hand on her breast, her face screwed up tight. She was struggling with her words; he remembered what she'd told him last time and squeezed her breast roughly, rolling her nipple under his palm. She grunted in pleasure. "Keep—keep doing that,  _please_."

He groaned, knowing he'd do whatever she wanted him to do in that moment if she just asked; he continued groping her breast, watching her fingers stroke her clit deftly, watching his cock push in and out of her. He wasn't going to last long, but he couldn't slow his thrusts now, as turned on as he was by the sight before him.

He felt the familiar tingling in his balls, and he groaned. "Katniss, I'm gonna come," he warned, choking on a moan, and she nodded, her fingers circling her clit harder.

"I'm, I'm close," she gasped, and he lost it the second he felt the beginning contractions of her walls.

"Fuck!" he grunted, slamming into her a few times while his cock twitched inside her, spilling his semen into the condom. Katniss' fingers stiffened as she rubbed harder and then she cried out, her back snapping straight as she came, her muscles spasming sporadically around his cock as they milked the last of his orgasm out of him.

They were both panting heavily, neither of them moving for a moment while the euphoria washed over them. Finally, her leg slid off his shoulder, the hard heel of her boot banging against the dresser when it dropped. Peeta groaned, pulling out of her. "God damn," he muttered, the condom sagging with the weight of his semen in the tip; he removed it and tied it off, disposing of it in a waste bin next to the dresser. Katniss inhaled a shuddering breath, opening her eyes to look at him. Her face and chest were flushed, and he could see the shyness setting in.

He didn't want that. At all.

Impulsively, he leaned forward to kiss her; she was initially surprised, but she relaxed against him, her fingers sliding through his curls as she returned the kiss with a thorough exploration of his mouth. With a sigh, he pulled away, but he kept his face close enough to hers so that when he spoke, his lips brushed against hers. "I gotta do that again."

"Hmm?" she hummed, dazed.

"Fuck you, I mean. That wasn't nearly enough. I need to do that again," he replied, his voice low and husky. She blinked, processing his words. Once she had, acceptance flooded her eyes, pushing out the shyness.

"Okay," she murmured, and he raised his eyebrows.

"So you'll allow it?" he asked, and she nodded.

"I'll allow it," she whispered. He grinned suddenly before he slanted his mouth against hers, gathering her in his arms to carry her to the bed. As he parted her legs to settle between them, he wondered just how many times he could fuck her that night before they had to part ways. Who knew if he'd ever see her again?

Although, considering this was the second time he'd seen her in a week, maybe the odds were in his favor, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Twisting off her braid with a hair tie, Katniss flipped off the light and exited the bathroom. She found Gale sitting at the dining table in the living room, perusing the newspaper while he shoveled some oatmeal into his mouth.

"Good morning," she greeted, kissing the top of his head. He squeezed her hip in return, keeping his eyes trained on the newspaper.

"Morning, babe," he replied after he'd swallowed his mouthful. She left his side to pour herself a bowl of cereal in the kitchen. She padded back to the table once her bowl was ready and curled up in a seat opposite him.

"Anything interesting today?" she asked, nodding to the paper while she took a bite of her Multi-Grain Cheerios. Gale shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.

"Nah, not in particular." He folded the paper back to the front and then smiled at her, cupping the mug of coffee in his hand. "Sleep okay?"

She smirked at him knowingly and rolled her eyes. "When I eventually got to sleep, yeah."

He chuckled, his voice still raw from sleep, and he reached across the table to grab her hand, pulling it to his mouth so he could kiss her fingers. "Well, I'm sorry I kept you up so late then," he teased, releasing her hand.

"No, you're not."

"Yeah, you're right." He grinned, then he tipped his chin toward the kitchen, gesturing with his own mug. "There's coffee if you need it."

She nodded, taking another bite of her cereal. Gale finished off his coffee and pushed back from the table, tossing the newspaper toward her. "I gotta get to the garage, but here you go," he said, disappearing into the kitchen. Katniss shrugged to herself, chewing absently on a mouthful of Cheerios while she idly flipped to the comics. She only liked to read the comics. There was too much in the news to get worked up about, anyway, so she figured it was best to just ignore it all. When Gale returned, he tipped her chin up to press a kiss to her lips, licking the drops of milk off his own once he pulled back. "I'll see you tonight."

"Yep, have a good day," she offered after she'd swallowed.

He strode over to the door, throwing over his shoulder when he flung the door open, "Love you!"

"Love you, too," she called after him, but the door was already closing. Shrugging to herself, she turned her attention back to the comics and resumed devouring her cereal. Gale worked at an automotive garage he owned, which had been passed down to him after his father died. He had to get to work fairly early most mornings, her own job as an urban forestry technician for the town affording her a slightly later start, and he was always in a rush to get out the door.

She supposed it didn't help his punctuality that they often got to bed too late.

Katniss snorted lightly to herself, suddenly conscious of the dull ache between her thighs. It was odd; she had kind of expected her sex life with Gale to dwindle once they'd started swinging, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on him.

Between his almost nightly advances and the thorough pounding she'd gotten last weekend from Peeta, she was feeling incredibly fucked these days.

Kind of fucked  _out_ , actually.

Her hand drifted up to her neck, her fingers stroking the fading bruise under her jaw she'd attempted to cover with concealer—but she knew it was still there. Gale knew it, too. A souvenir from her last night with Peeta. She hadn't realized he'd left a hickey until she'd gotten home much later that night, when she'd looked in the mirror as she was cleaning up. She'd been stunned for some reason, the impression of Peeta's mouth on her neck shaking her to her core; she had been worried what Gale would say about it.

But he hadn't minded. He'd just shrugged it off. She'd been slightly baffled by his lack of a reaction—until she saw similar markings on his own neck and chest.

She hadn't been nearly as unbothered by the sight as he'd been.

She couldn't bring herself to inquire more about his experiences at Snow's, though he seemed to want to hear all the dirty little details about her time there. She didn't know what to say when he asked; to her, there was something unsettling about revealing to her husband the intimate aspects of her time with Peeta. It was like he got off on it, and this was a fact about Gale she was only finally learning, something she wasn't sure she was too comfortable with. But, then again, there was a lot she was learning about her husband lately, wasn't there?

She'd known Gale since she was 16; he'd been there for her when her father died of a heart attack, and then when her mother died of an intentional drug overdose; during that time, he'd helped support her emotionally and, to a lesser extent, financially, though she'd been loath to accept his help at the time. She had needed it, however, in order to help get her and Prim through college. Gale had lost his own father some years after her own passed, but his business made enough money to support the wife and four children he'd left behind, especially once his eldest son took over.

Gale had been the first and only guy she'd been with. Growing up, she'd never really considered herself the marrying type—she just didn't know if marriage and children had really ever appealed to her. But when Gale had asked her to marry him right after she'd graduated college, she felt it was the kind of commitment she owed him, really, after all the support he'd willingly lent her over the years. And she did love him, so it seemed the logical progression of their relationship.

Their sex life was good, or at least she'd thought it was. When he asked her to swing, she'd been thrown for a loop. She knew Gale had more experience than she did, but she didn't think she'd given him any reason to complain. But now she realized there was just something he needed to feel satisfied that she wasn't able to give him, and she guessed swinging gave him that. She'd been willing to try it, for his sake, though she hadn't been sure it was something she really wanted for herself. Or would be able to maintain.

She still didn't know. She had greatly enjoyed the sex she'd had with Peeta, however, so she supposed, at least for the time being, she was enjoying the swinger lifestyle. That was all she was sure of—if she thought too much more about it, things got too twisted and confusing in her head.

With a sigh, Katniss dropped her spoon into her cereal, ignoring the milk that splattered onto the newspaper as she scooped up her bowl to dump it in the kitchen sink. Thinking and analyzing weren't really her forte; she preferred to just  _do_. She and Gale were going back to Snow's this weekend, regardless—and she couldn't allow herself to think about how badly she wanted Peeta to be there again.

* * *

Katniss really hated making small talk. Like, with a burning, fiery passion. Even as uncomfortable as initiating physical intimacy with strangers made her, she'd almost just rather fuck them than talk to them, if she was being honest. The small talk she was forced to endure at the beginning of each party at Snow's mansion was what she dreaded the most. And maybe she  _was_ getting better at it and getting more familiar with the regulars who showed up—Finnick and Annie seemed nice enough and were arguably the most attractive couple always in attendance; still, when it came to getting dragged into banal conversations with people she didn't know, she tried to avoid it as much as she could.

That was why, after she'd slipped away to use the bathroom, she took her time returning to the party, quietly observing every piece of artwork she came across in the hallway and foyer. There were a lot of roses everywhere. It was pretty tacky, really, for someone so rich.

Katniss finally dipped back into the main room where everyone was gathered, skirting around the small groups of people conversing with each other to slink over to the bar. The cute redheaded bartender (Snow seemed to be going for some kind of theme here, with all the red-haired servants) smiled at her and quickly made her a gin and tonic at her request, sliding it across the counter to her. She flashed him a tight smile in thanks and took a generous sip as she turned around—and nearly collided with Peeta.

She had to spit some of the drink back into the glass to avoid choking on it, a few drops of the clear liquid dribbling down her chin. Blushing, she swiped at her mouth with her hand and grimaced at him. His mouth quirked into an amused smile. "Hey—that drink a little too strong?"

She would have been insulted by his insinuation if she wasn't so embarrassed. "No, I just—no. It went down the wrong way," she said, coughing slightly to clear her windpipe.

He nodded, his smile still in place. "How are you?" he asked after a moment of awkward silence.

She shrugged automatically. "I'm fine. I mean, great, I'm great," she replied, cringing inwardly at how inept she was at conversing like a normal human being. Peeta raised his eyebrows.

"Great, huh?" he repeated, that infuriating dimple creasing his cheek as his grin widened. "That's a pretty enthusiastic descriptor. Having a good time then?"

She faltered because, really, she wasn't, but she didn't want to come across as a Debbie Downer who couldn't have fun even at a swingers party. "Yes," she said simply then took a sip of her gin and tonic.

He nodded, stepping around her to get closer to the bar. "Well, I'm glad," he offered right before the bartender took his order. Katniss watched him order a Manhattan and wondered if she had been dismissed. She felt weird. She didn't know why she was so uncomfortable talking to him, considering how intimately she knew him by this point; he'd had his face in her crotch, for God's sake, multiple times. They'd had sex.  _Great_  sex.

Sex that was making her wet at that very moment just from thinking about it. Shit.

Her eyes scanned the crowd for Gale—she'd left him in the company of some people named Marvel and Glitter or something as equally obnoxious when she'd gone to the bathroom—but Peeta grabbed her attention again. "So, are you starting to feel more comfortable at these things?" he asked, eliciting an immediate scowl from her.

"Who said I was uncomfortable at these things?" she snapped defensively, and he looked surprised.

"You did. The last time we were here."

Oh. She blinked at him stupidly before a flush ignited her chest as she recalled their previous conversation. She had said that, hadn't she? "I didn't—I mean, I just meant—" she broke off with an exasperated growl, rolling her eyes. "Ugh, fine. I  _told_  you I'm not a people person."

He smiled sympathetically, swigging his alcoholic beverage. "I know. There's nothing wrong with that. I mean, I don't think one necessarily follows the other," he said, shrugging, and she frowned.

"Uh, except they kind of do. You kind of have to be able to talk to people if you plan to fuck them," she reasoned, her face already heating up at the bluntness of her statement. Peeta laughed, his ears reddening.

"Okay, fair point. But, I mean, you do well with me, I think, so maybe you're just better one-on-one," he suggested, and she wondered if that was a come-on. She took a large gulp of her drink, remembering just how  _good_  they were one-on-one.

She didn't know what to say exactly, and he didn't seem to, either, judging by the way his lips pursed in discomfort, and his eyes flitted away from her. She didn't want things to be awkward between them, especially because he seemed so genuine; Gale had stressed the importance of making friends with these people, to build a sense of trust, she guessed, but it was hard to be friends with somebody if she couldn't stop thinking about his dick and the way it moved inside her, or the delicious thrill of his tongue between her legs.

Ugh. This was supposed to be just a sex thing, she thought. Why should thinking about having sex with him make her stomach knot up so badly?

Katniss blew out a shaky breath and opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by the sight of Johanna sidling up to Peeta, her arm snaking out to pinch his ass. He jumped, caught off guard, and he cursed to himself as his drink sloshed over the side of his glass.

"Hey, handsome," Johanna purred, sex personified in her black, lacy, see-through dress. Katniss could very distinctly see her nipples through the sheer material, and she looked away, embarrassed.

"Shit, Jo," Peeta grumbled, drawing Katniss' gaze back to him. His eyes darted between the two women, and he looked apologetic. She didn't understand why. "Warn me next time, will ya?"

The short-haired woman shrugged nonchalantly, snatching the drink from his hand to take a sip. "You're at a swingers party,  _darling_. Always be prepared for a little groping." She looked pointedly at Katniss next. "Who's your friend here?"

Katniss locked eyes with Peeta, feeling an inexplicable pulse of panic in her neck; she thought she saw the same fear reflected in his eyes before his expression relaxed, and he waved a hand at her. "This is Katniss. Katniss, this is, uh, this is my girlfriend...Johanna."

Johanna grinned at her, snatching her hand up for a steel-gripped handshake. "Hi, Kat—can I call you Kitty Kat? I'm gonna call you Kitty Kat. It's nice to meet you, Kitty Kat," she said, Katniss gaping at her mutely. When she released her hand, Johanna jabbed a thumb in Peeta's direction. "Have you tried him yet? If you haven't, you really should. He's pretty delectable."

Katniss was sure the shade of her face matched his; his eyes were round as he stared at her, full of an emotion she knew she felt too but couldn't really pinpoint. "Uh, Jo, you know these things are random," he chuckled nervously, running his free hand through his curls. Katniss didn't know what to say, but she was perplexed as to why he didn't answer his girlfriend truthfully.

Johanna shrugged, handing the Manhattan back to him. Then she winked at Katniss. "Well, maybe if you're lucky," she chirped, but she turned to face Peeta before Katniss could respond with anything beyond a stunned, open-mouthed stare. "Oh, Finn was telling me he and Annie are going to host a meet-up at their place one of these days. Thought you might be interested in knowing that."

Peeta coughed and then cleared his throat, nodding. "Um, yeah, sounds—great. Uh—"

But she was already scanning the room again. "I'll talk to him and get some more information for you. Hey, Finn!" she yelled, sauntering in his direction.

Baffled, Katniss met Peeta's sheepish gaze. "Well, she's—certainly interesting," she muttered, and he chuckled uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck.

"She's a little drunk," he explained, hurriedly taking a gulp of his drink to finish it. He set the empty cup on the bar and licked his lips. "I—" Peeta stopped himself suddenly, his eyes widening slightly at something over her shoulder. She understood the next moment when a hand slid around her waist and a mouth nuzzled a kiss to her temple.

"Hey, babe," Gale murmured, and she tensed reflexively. She could smell the rum on his breath. "You disappeared for so long."

She looked up at him, trying not to let her apprehension show. "I, um, I needed to use the bathroom, and then I came to get a drink and..." she faltered, her eyes slipping to back to regard Peeta, who looked ready to bolt. Gale caught the line of her stare, and he pulled away some to glance at Peeta.

"Making friends?" he asked her, but he turned a pleasant smile toward Peeta, reaching his hand out to shake the blonde man's hand. Peeta offered Gale a smile, as well, grasping his hand in a friendly shake. "Hey, I'm Gale, Katniss' husband."

Peeta nodded. "Yeah, hey, man. I'm Peeta, it's nice to meet you," he said cordially. Katniss didn't know why her stomach was twisting so much, and she was torn between draining the rest of her gin and tonic and putting it aside, unsure if it would sit well with the roiling nerves in her gut. What was she so worried about? Gale knew she'd had sex with somebody here, just as he had, as well—he just didn't know it was the guy in front of him. And that it was twice.

Well, many times, just on two different occasions.

Fortunately, they were spared an uncomfortable conversation by somebody tapping a glass with a utensil. They all turned toward the source of the sound to see Snow standing under the archway of the room's entrance. He smiled benignly when he had everybody's attention. "Good evening. I just wanted to thank you all for coming tonight," he started, waving his wine glass in a welcoming gesture.

"Um, I'm gonna—I think my girlfriend's waving me over, but it was lovely speaking with you," Peeta said in a hushed tone, drawing Katniss' and Gale's eyes back to him.

Gale smiled. "Nice meeting you, Peter," he said, but if Peeta caught the mispronunciation, he didn't correct him. Katniss didn't either, lifting her hand in a small wave as he ducked away, his gaze lingering on her face before he turned away. He strode over to Johanna, who was standing with Finnick and a man Katniss didn't recognize.

Snow was still talking, so Katniss turned back to him to catch the rest of his words.

"—normally, we have the men draw keys, but I thought tonight we'd switch it up," he said, his puffy lips stretched tight in a wide smile. "Gentlemen, if you'd be so willing, I'd like you to place your watches in the bowl tonight, and we'll let the ladies choose their dates for the night."

Katniss' eyes widened in alarm, locking on Gale's face. He winked at her and tightened his arm around her waist, seemingly unfazed by the agenda change. Had he known? She checked his wrist; on it, she noticed a silver watch, the face glinting in the light. He normally didn't wear a watch, as it was fairly impractical with his line of work. So he must have known. Why didn't he tell her? Or maybe he had, and she just hadn't been paying attention. Sometimes that happened.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, looking around the room nervously. She didn't do too well with change, so her apprehension wasn't unusual for her.

But why was her main concern that she didn't know what kind of watch Peeta wore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gale's occupation here was inspired by what he does in silvercistern's story "Happy Endings," which, if you haven't read yet, you should.


	6. Chapter 6

She wished she was better at reading people. She just didn't do well with all the nuances of humans and their emotions; she wasn't good at gauging their reactions from just their expressions or body language. She needed words. She needed people to just tell her what they were thinking or feeling, something that had often been the source of arguments in the beginning stages of her and Gale's relationship—still was, sometimes. But she wasn't a damn mind-reader.

Which was why she wished she knew what the hell was going through Peeta's head that very moment. He was watching her intently from across the room, his eyes dark and—pleading? She wasn't sure. But he was trying to convey something to her with just a look, and she simply didn't understand. And she was already freaking out about the sudden game change for the evening. When all the men moved forward to drop their watches into the bowl, Katniss had tried to determine what kind of watch Peeta had on—but it just looked like every other silver watch. There was no way she'd remember it and no guarantee some other woman wouldn't grab it first.

Especially because Katniss couldn't bring herself to approach the bowl. The prospect overwhelmed her, and her fear about getting any other man besides Peeta bewildered her. So she decided it was best to just stay put, perched on the arm of the couch, drinking her second gin and tonic since Snow's announcement. She decided she would just let all the other women go first, and she would just get whoever the last man standing was. That seemed reasonable, if not somewhat flawed.

She just hoped she didn't get Snow. Or that rounded, squat man with the handlebar mustache that made him look like a cartoon villain. Plutarch, she thought it was. He seemed nice enough, she guessed, but the thought of riding him had her desperately draining the last of her drink, sucking down the dredges.

Her mouth puckered from the watery sourness, and her eyes flickered over to Peeta again; he was still watching her, his brow furrowed. She wanted to scream at him,  _What do you want me to do?_ She was frustrated and confused, and with every new watch selected, she was sure it was going to belong to Peeta—and that would be it; she would have missed her chance. But he didn't budge from his spot, his hands shoved deep into his pockets while every other man was led away. Until it was just him. And her. And an empty bowl—something her alcohol-addled brain couldn't comprehend. She barely even remembered Gale being chosen, she'd been that preoccupied with Peeta and the watches.

She gawked at him as he moved toward her, clearing his throat. He ducked her stare when he stopped in front of her but didn't speak right away.

"How..." she squeaked, not entirely sure what she wanted to ask.

He looked chagrined when he met her gaze; then, he pulled his hand out of his pocket, revealing his watch. "I, uh...I didn't ever put it in," he explained quietly, sliding it back onto his wrist and flipping the clasp shut. She didn't know what to say, so she watched him fiddle with his watch nervously. She finally forced herself to look him in the face; he met her gaze, apprehension obscuring the blueness of his irises.

Katniss shook her head. "What are you doing?" she whispered. His mouth stretched into a frown, and he sighed, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

"Something very stupid, I think," he answered honestly. He scraped his top lip with his bottom teeth as he thought, then he exhaled heavily. "I didn't want to have sex with anyone else."

Her heart raced at his admission, and her mouth went dry. "Why not?" she finally forced out, though she thought she might already know his answer, even if she couldn't accept it. He just shrugged and looked away. She swallowed thickly, her finger tracing the rim of her glass.

She should be mad. She should  _probably_ be mad. He was purposely rigging these drawings in order to sleep with her. Objectively, she knew that wasn't fair.

But she would be a hypocrite to be mad about it. Because hadn't she also been trying to work out how she could draw his watch? If she was being completely honest, she didn't want to sleep with any of the other men, not just the unattractive ones like Snow or Plutarch. There were other attractive men, such as Finnick or Gloss, but for some reason she couldn't picture herself fucking them. Or at least, following through with it. Not the way she could imagine with Peeta.  _Had_  followed through with Peeta.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and tucked behind her ear a few wisps of hair that had escaped her updo. She forced herself to look at him again. His blue eyes were trained on her intently, tying her tongue in her mouth; whatever she had wanted to say was lost.

He licked his lips. "Should I apologize?" he asked, his eyebrows sloping together. She blinked at him.

"What do you mean?"

He pursed his lips together and ran his hand through his hair. "Well...I keep...purposely getting you, basically. And taking the choice out of your hands. It's pretty shitty of me, actually," he said, his expression sheepish. "But...it seems like you want the same thing. Am I reading you wrong?"

Her neck and face flushed, her eyes dropping to the empty glass in her hand. Her heart beat faster. Maybe if she was more sober, she wouldn't have been so honest. But his sincerity was her undoing. "No, you're not," she replied softly, running her finger through the condensation on her cup. She felt him move closer; she didn't look up until his hand ghosted over her hair, trailing over the braid that wrapped around her head, brushing some of those stubborn wisps behind her ear. She found herself leaning into his hand, but then the sound of glass bottles clanking together disrupted the moment, causing her to jerk back as if she had been stung. They both glanced behind them to see the servants cleaning up the bar, deliberately avoiding looking at the pair.

Peeta cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, and he stepped away from her. She already missed his warmth. "Well," he started, but she pushed off the sofa, interrupting him.

"Do you want to go into a room? So we can have some privacy?" she suggested shyly, setting her empty glass on an end table. He held her gaze for a moment, the line of his jaw hard as he searched her eyes. She didn't know what he was looking for—but whatever it was, he must have found it because he nodded, his throat bobbing with the hard swallow he took.

"Okay."

They made their way down the by-now-familiar hallway to an empty room. Katniss immediately went for the bed as Peeta shut the door, crawling on top of it to sit cross-legged in the center. When she looked over at him, he seemed surprised by her forwardness; she realized he had misunderstood her intentions, so she hurried to say something.

"What do you do for a living?" she blurted. His eyes widened; he looked alarmed. His expression confused her. "Sorry, I just...don't know anything about you. And Gale keeps telling me how important it is to make friends with, you know, with the people at these things," she mumbled, picking at the bottom seam of her pants leg.

He cleared his throat. "Right, of course. I just—well, I'm a writer," he replied, inching closer.

"A writer? Like you write books or something?"

"Ahh, no." He smiled, his lips twitching nervously, and he made his way to the side of the bed to sit down. "I, uh, I write—for a newspaper. I review movies and events and writer other arts and entertainment-type things."

She raised her eyebrows; she was about to ask him what paper he worked for, but he spoke first, "What do you do?"

"Oh, I work for the town," she said, feeling oddly self-conscious. She twisted her wedding band around on her finger to avoid looking at him. "I'm a, uh, urban forestry technician."

"Wow." She glanced over at him. He looked impressed. "So you kind of study the trees and landscape of the city and the parks and stuff?"

She couldn't fight her smile. "How did you know? Most people I tell don't really know what my job entails."

He grinned, twisting on the bed some to look at her fully. "Well, before I moved into arts and entertainment, I used to cover city and local politics."

She nodded. "Why did you stop?"

"Well, it got kind of depressing, actually," he admitted sheepishly. At her quizzical expression, he elaborated, "I mean...government is kind of corrupt. Um, no offense. I'm sure your department is fine. It's just, when you start to peel back the surface of city government, you really get familiar with the shady underside of politicians. It just got kind of draining, I guess. It really starts to weigh on your soul after a while."

Katniss chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "I can see that. I mean, I don't deal with a lot of bullshit, I guess, but there's so much bureaucratic red tape as it is. So, I understand."

Peeta nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, lot of hoops to jump through. And no one's really honest with you, so—" He stopped abruptly, his face paling slightly, but he coughed suddenly and looked away. She was going to ask him if he was all right, but when he turned back to her, his expression was back to normal. "So, why did you decide to go into urban forestry?"

She smiled at the memory, dropping her eyes to the bed comforter. "Well, I spent a lot of time in the woods growing up. My dad was a hunter, and he taught me how to traverse the woods. I spent a lot of early mornings out there with him."

Peeta smiled softly at her. "That sounds pretty amazing. I bet your dad is pretty proud of you now."

Her face fell. "Um...he, uh, he died when I was in high school. So I don't know."

"Oh shit," he whispered, and she could hear the remorse in his voice. "I'm so sorry. That was thoughtless of me..."

She shrugged halfheartedly. "You didn't know. It's okay. I mean, it's part of why I went into the field. It reminded me of him." She thought about the keychain he had given her one year, the golden bird he had found at an antiques shop; it was one of the only reminders she had of him these days.

"Still. I'm sorry. I'm sure if you're any indication, he was a great man."

Heat blossomed in her cheeks, and she looked at him sharply. "Thank you," she said after her surprise faded, offering him a small smile. "He was." He smiled encouragingly at her, and she took a deep breath. She wasn't sure why she was about to tell him what she wanted to say next, but she felt the words rising, regardless. "My mom passed away, too. Not long after. Um...she OD'ed on pills." Peeta's eyes were wide, his mouth opened soundlessly. "She couldn't deal with my dad's death."

"Jesus..." he breathed.

"I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad for me or anything," she rushed out. "I just...I don't know, felt like telling you."

Sadness was still etched into the lines of his face as he stared at her. She heard him take a heavy breath. "Thank you for telling me, Katniss."

She shrugged and lay down, resting her head on one of the pillows as she stared at the ceiling. Neither spoke for a moment until Peeta stretched out beside her—but he kept a respectable distance between their bodies. It felt weird. She wrapped her arms around her waist to stave off the coldness that began to seep in.

"I don't have a good relationship with my mom."

Katniss craned her neck to look at him. "Why not?" she probed gently.

He smiled wryly at her. "She's kind of a bitch." Katniss snorted, a brief grin lighting up her face. "My dad's a decent guy, but my mom was always hard to get along with. She was just never happy with anything. She was a practitioner of the tough love method, I guess you could say."

Frowning, she rolled onto her side. "What do you mean by that?"

He sighed and folded his hands over his stomach, clasping them together. "She was a fan of harsh words and hard blows."

She stared at him, horrified. "She hit you?"

He turned his gaze to the ceiling. "Yeah, but only until I was about 16 or so. Then I hit a growth spurt and was bigger than her, so."

Katniss wrinkled her nose, her stomach tightening with a sickening feeling. Whatever resentment she possessed toward her deceased mother, the woman had at least never been abusive. "That's horrible," she whispered.

He shifted onto his side so he was looking directly her. "Yeah, well, I guess we all have our crosses to bear," he said dismissively. His eyes cleared then. "So, any siblings?"

She smiled automatically at the thought of Prim. "Yeah, I have a baby sister. Prim. Well, she's not a baby anymore. God, she's 23. She's in med school now. I've been taking care of her myself since she was 13, though, so I still think of her as just a kid sometimes." He was grinning at her, his eyes shining. Up close, and not distracted by his mouth, she could count the freckles on his nose. She gave herself a shake, stopping herself from mentally connecting them like the constellations they resembled. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm the baby, actually," he said with a chuckle. Her smile widened. "I have two older brothers. They're a couple of dickheads."

She laughed. "What?"

"If you grew up with two older brothers, you'd understand," he joked. "They tormented me mercilessly. But we're cool now, it's fine."

She giggled, which was a weird sound to hear. Embarrassed, she rolled away. "I don't think I could handle being the youngest. I mean, maybe things would have been easier for me if I didn't have to take care of somebody else, but, I don't know; it feels natural at this point, so whatever."

Peeta laughed, the sound low and throaty. "It sucked at the time, but in hindsight, I think it was good for me. Helped toughen me up. You learn how to use humor to deflect. I learned some good survival skills," he sniffed haughtily, and she snorted.

"Uh, yeah, I think my skills with a bow and arrows might trump your survival skills."

He looked impressed. "Bow and arrows, huh? So you're the go-to girl in the event of a zombie apocalypse, then."

"Well, I don't wanna brag, but..." she trailed off, pretending to examine her nails, and he laughed again.

"Duly noted." When she looked back at him, he was still grinning at her. Her stomach did a small flip, and she had to look away again. He was just so damn attractive; even being in his proximity, despite the foot of space between them, she could feel herself getting wet, like it was some strange Pavlovian response or something.

It just didn't feel right having sex with him tonight, somehow, no matter how badly her body craved it. She didn't know what he was thinking or expecting, but he seemed to be respecting her space, at least.

Which only made her want to close the distance between them that much more, frustratingly enough.

"So, did you ever kill anything with that bow?" he asked, drawing her out from her thoughts. She turned her attention back to him and smiled slightly.

"Did I ever kill anything?" She scoffed. "How do you think we ate for the first 12 years of my life?"

His eyes widened. "Shit. I'm definitely not fucking with you when the zombies come." She nodded in agreement, and his face sobered abruptly. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Her brow furrowed at the shift in his tone. "Okay..."

"If I get bit by a zombie, will you shoot me through the head immediately?" he deadpanned. Her bark of laughter echoed around the room, and he finally cracked, letting a chuckle slip, but he promptly resumed his somber expression. "I'm serious, Katniss. I don't want to be a zombie."

She wiped at her eye, catching the moisture that had pooled there, then she fixed her expression into something serious. "Okay, Peeta. I promise to shoot you through the head."

He grinned at her, flashing his teeth. "Thanks, Katniss. You're a true pal." She just rolled her eyes, but her heart felt strangely full.

For the next hour, they talked. Nothing else. No sex, no kissing, no touching, even. She learned more about his childhood, the college he went to, the fraternity he was a part of. She divulged similar tales to him (except for the fraternity part—like hell she'd ever join a sorority). The only topic that was off limits was that of their significant others, an unspoken understanding. They laughed a lot, and hard; her stomach and cheeks hurt by the end of the night.

And when they parted ways, it didn't feel weird at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where my originally-limited-to-"The O.C." swinging knowledge rears it's head, if you recognize the watch trick Peeta pulls. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

The hot water felt good on his tired muscles. Peeta propped his forearms up against the tiled shower wall to hold himself up, letting the shower stream beat down on his back. He and Johanna had been at The Capitol until late last night, and he had gotten up early this morning to hit the gym.

The sex club had been an interesting experience, to say the least. They had to bring their own alcohol to give to the bartenders for liquor license reasons; Johanna had bitched about that the entire car ride there. Her irritation had faded, however, the moment they'd walked through the entrance: There were stripper poles and sex swings in different corners of the main area, and adult films played in a continuous loop on television screens throughout the bar. Peeta didn't know if it was arousing or just distracting. Past the bar, there were different rooms to have sex in: revolving ones with windows so others could watch, ones with all sorts of BDSM equipment (there was a device that he could only describe as a rack; he and Johanna beat it the hell out of that room fast), shower rooms, and even completely public beds for the hardcore exhibitionists. The outfits he saw were even wilder than what he was subjected to at Snow's—if they weren't completely naked, that was.

There was no way in hell Peeta was participating in anything that night; even Johanna felt out of her comfort zone ("It just feels...wet," she'd said, unable to explain further), though she was already making plans to bring her next date there. They had wandered from room to room, stumbling upon all sorts of wild sex acts. After a moment of shock and unbridled curiosity, Peeta would eventually tear himself away from the scene, usually having to backtrack to drag Johanna onward.

At least, he got a lot of research done; he found many people willing to talk to him, under the promise of anonymity.

Peeta had been going back and forth all week about writing his article. After his time with Katniss last weekend, just getting to know her, he'd realized his interest in her extended way beyond just a physical attraction. He liked her. A lot. To some degree, she trusted him. And he was deceiving her, no matter how much he tried to rationalize it to himself. The realization was causing him physical distress; he tossed and turned most nights, which was partly why he was so exhausted today. He just wasn't sure he could continue with the article.

And he'd finally decided he couldn't in good conscience finish the piece and had told Haymitch as much on Friday—but Haymitch wasn't having it.

"Sorry, kid, we've already budgeted space for this. We've got advertisers slated to run that day just because of your piece," he'd said, not even sparing Peeta a glance as he squinted at his computer screen. "I don't know what kind of moral crisis you're having—don't care, really—but figure it out. We're still running with this."

Shaking his head, Peeta leaned back to dip his face into the stream of water. Once his hair was wet, he ducked out of the stream again and spit some water out of his mouth, blinking his eyes open.

Katniss was going to hate him when she found out, he was sure of it. But...maybe she didn't have to know about this, did she? If she never saw the article, then what harm was done?

No, that was awful. Just because someone didn't  _know_  you were lying to them, that didn't mean you weren't  _still_ lying to them. And once the piece was written, Peeta would disappear from the swingers scene. Surely, she would want to know what was going on, why he had stopped coming around. Wouldn't she? Or was he just fooling himself into thinking she cared beyond the sex they had?

He was fooling himself. She had her husband. He couldn't get between that— _wouldn't_. Couldn't. Fuck.

He was in too deep.

But he couldn't shake her. He knew he was playing with fire, and yet he kept jumping right back into the flame. She just had a hold on him he wasn't sure he wanted to get out of. She was...undeniable. And utterly fascinating but sometimes frustrating and confusing, and he still couldn't stop thinking about her, or the way she felt around his cock, or how she moved over him or beneath him or against him, or the sounds she made when she came.

He felt his cock twitch. Shit. This was pretty much where his thoughts of her always led him; he probably shouldn't indulge the fantasies, but he couldn't make himself care enough to stop. He cycled through his standard arsenal of memories and images of her until he was hard, then he took himself in hand and began steadily pumping his cock. He braced his arm against the shower wall again while he stroked himself, groaning quietly as he circled the ridge of his head with his thumb. He gripped himself more firmly and stroked faster until he came with a gasp, spurting semen down the drain; he imagined he was spilling himself on Katniss' naked, exquisite breasts.

With a soft grunt, Peeta released his still pulsing cock and quickly lathered and rinsed his hair, washing his body before he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower.

The familiar guilt crept in as he toweled off, and he wiped the condensation off the mirror to stare at his reflection. He was at a sort of impasse with himself; he normally didn't have a problem doing the right thing, but for some reason he was having a hard time determining just  _what_ the right thing was in this situation.

Fuck, he would worry about it later. Right now, he had more research to do. He and Johanna were heading over to Finnick and Annie's house for a smaller, more exclusive gathering of swingers, and he needed to prepare himself for that.

And for the possibility of once again seeing Katniss.

* * *

"This is probably a horrible idea," Peeta muttered under his breath as he and Johanna climbed the front steps to Annie and Finnick's quaint, little house. She scoffed, ringing the doorbell.

"These two are great. What's your deal?" she asked, and he just shook his head. He hadn't told Johanna anything about Katniss—as far as she knew, he'd slept with different women at Snow's.

"I just mean it's a smaller group. And we're not real swingers, Jo," he explained.

"Well, maybe you aren't," she shot back with a grin right before the door swung open. Annie greeted them on the other side with a large smile.

"Johanna, Peeta! So glad you could make it," she gushed, pulling Johanna into a hug, then she waved Peeta in. He held out the bottle of Chardonnay to her.

"Hi, Annie, you look nice," he said as she took the proffered bottle from him and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you! Please, come in."

Johanna waggled her eyebrows at him over Annie's shoulder before she slipped farther into the house. He rolled his eyes before Annie shut the door and gestured ahead of him.

"Make yourself at home. Finn's making drinks in the kitchen, and everyone else is mingling."

"Ah, okay," he said, clearing his throat nervously, and he followed her through the living room. He recognized a few people from his visits to Snow's, but the others he'd never met before. In all, there were probably about 10 people there.

And none of them were Katniss.

He couldn't hide his disappointment. It wasn't likely she was going to show up now—he and Johanna were running late as it was.

_Get over it, Mellark. You freaked her out the last time; she wouldn't have sex with you again, anyway._

It was for the best this way, he told himself.

When they entered the kitchen, Finnick was pouring seltzer water into cups filled with vodka. He glanced up at them and grinned. "Jo! Peeta! Welcome to our humble abode. Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for the invite," Peeta replied, adding mentally,  _Probably not going to stay because I am too weirded out about having sex with new friends who I am deceiving, no offense intended_.

Not too weirded out to sleep with a married woman who was practically a stranger, though, clearly.

Jo gave Finnick a body-squeezing hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. Peeta had no idea they were so close already. Johanna took one of the mixed drinks he was making and swigged it hardily while Annie placed the wine in the fridge. Peeta looked around the kitchen and scratched his nose. "Ah, is this, uh, everybody?" he asked, hoping he sounded casual.

Finnick smiled at him as he squeezed some limes into the drinks. "Yes. Well, everybody who's coming, at least. I invited Gale Hawthorne and his wife—what was it, hon? Katherine?"

"Katniss," Peeta corrected automatically, trying not to flush. Damn it.

"Right, Katniss. Jo kept called her Kitty Kat; I forgot what it was short for," Finnick chuckled. "I take it you know them then? They're nice; she's a little shy, but I got to know Gale fairly well, at least. But they said they couldn't make it this evening." Finnick shrugged, then he handed one of the drinks to Peeta, who sipped it to mask his crestfallen expression. He wanted to kick himself for wondering what other plans the two had for the night. It was none of his business, definitely not his place to wonder. "Annie, love, can you take these drinks out to our guests?" Finnick asked, and she nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Of course. Jo? Would you mind giving me a hand?"

Johanna shrugged, draining the rest of her drink, and then she grabbed a few of the cups, following Annie into the living room and leaving Peeta and Finnick by themselves. Peeta was a little uncomfortable, but it had nothing to do with Finnick; the other man was easygoing, amicable and fairly self-deprecating, which Peeta found funny and relatable.

"You have a nice home," he offered. Finnick smiled.

"Thank you. It doesn't look half bad when the little runt isn't around to destroy everything, I'll admit."

Peeta's brow creased in confusion. "Runt? You have a—?"

"Son, yep. His name is Dylan. He's 6. He's with his grandparents this weekend," Finnick explained, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

Peeta blinked. "Oh. Wow. So, uh, how does that work with—everything?" he gestured vaguely, feeling his neck heat up with embarrassment; he hoped he hadn't offended the other man.

But Finnick grinned and leaned against the kitchen island. "Well, it helps to not have him around to cramp our style when we invite friends over," he joked then sipped his beer.

Peeta laughed, staring at the lime slice in his cup as he swirled the liquid around. "Right. But I mean, in general? I assume he doesn't know—what about your parents?"

Finnick shrugged. "No, they wouldn't be too understanding. But it helps that they want to spend so much time with their grandson, you know?"

Nodding, Peeta moved closer to lean against the kitchen island, too. "Do you ever worry about his safety, with your lifestyle? I mean, are you ever concerned about the kind of people you might inadvertently introduce into his life?" he asked, sipping his drink. Finnick appeared to be contemplating his question, then he shook his head.

"No, Annie and I are very selective about the people we welcome into our house. Most of the people here now are friends I've known for years," he replied. Peeta wasn't sure he did a good job at hiding the surprise that flashed through his eyes because Finnick arched an eyebrow, his mouth curling in amusement. "Obviously, I don't know you or Jo very well, but I figured you could use some help with your article."

Peeta's heart stuttered in his chest, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "I—excuse me?" he asked, dumbfounded, his blood already starting to rush through his ears, but Finnick just laughed.

"Relax. You don't have to worry. I read the news daily, though, so I knew who you were. And you were clearly out of place at Snow's, so I deduced pretty quickly that you and Jo weren't actually there to swing." He stopped himself and chuckled. "Well, maybe Jo is. But I know you two aren't a couple."

Peeta didn't know what to say. "Did she tell you?" he asked, and Finnick shook his head.

"She didn't have to. I'm just really good at reading people."

Sighing heavily, Peeta ran a hand through his hair. "Shit. Well. I'm sorry. I can leave if you want—"

"Peet, it's fine," Finnick interrupted, smiling. "I invited you for a reason. If you're going to write an article about swingers, I figured you should get the entire picture, at least. Learn what kind of people we really are."

"It's not going to be a hit piece," Peeta assured. "I'm not that kind of writer. I was just genuinely curious about the lifestyle. My article will be fair."

The older man nodded. "Yeah, I believe you. But I thought I could offer my assistance, regardless. I ask that you not use my or Annie's real name, though, if you please."

"Yeah, of course," Peeta agreed, relief flooding his veins. He took another swallow of his drink. "I appreciate your willingness to talk and open your home to me and Johanna. For what it's worth, I know she's really enjoying herself."

Finnick chortled. "Oh, I know. You both are welcome to stay and enjoy the actual festivities, of course—but I have a feeling you might not partake."

Peeta grinned sheepishly, ignoring the niggling thought that, had Katniss shown up, he would have very seriously entertained the idea, at least. "Ahh, no. I think I'll have to pass."

"Not a problem, but you can definitely stick around to talk; if you have any questions for me, I'm happy to answer."

"Thank you, Finnick. I really appreciate it," Peeta said, pushing away from the island as Finnick circled around it. The other man wrapped an arm around his shoulders and steered him toward the living room.

"Don't mention it, Peet. Your secret's safe with me."

* * *

Peeta was hard at work on an article about a local band when Johanna plopped down beside him with a dramatic sigh.

"Man, you missed out Saturday night," she cajoled; he shot her a warning glance but otherwise kept his attention on the screen.

"Did I now? Because I'm pretty sure Finnick gave me what I went there for."

She snorted. "Maybe if you'd stayed longer, he would have given you exactly what he gave me."

That got his attention. He turned his wide eyes on her, checking around them to make sure no one else was listening. "Seriously? You had sex with him?"

She nodded, then she smirked. "And Annie."

He didn't think his eyes could get any wider. " _And Annie_ —wait, separately, or together?" he asked incredulously.

"Together," she confirmed, snickering at the look on his face; she tapped his chin to get him to close his mouth. "What can I say? These people are freaky."

Shit. "Well...shit. Wow." He had no idea what else to say. Wait—he knew what to say. "How was it?" he asked, unable to hide his intrigue.

She pretended to examine her nails. "Pretty damn good. That Annie, man...she knows how to eat a mean pussy."

He nearly choked on his own tongue, coughing up the spittle he'd just inhaled. Johanna laughed quietly, patting him on the back. "Jesus Christ," he gasped, completely awed. And a little turned on. He was trying not to think about the two women going down on each other, but the more he tried  _not_  to think about it, of course, the more the image pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. He shifted inconspicuously to ward of the slight bulge in his slacks. "I honestly don't even know what to say to that, but, wow. Congratulations, I guess."

She scoffed, twisting in the seat to brace her arms against the desk, and she kicked her legs up over the back of the chair. "'Congratulations'—what, you think that was my first threesome? Or even the first time a girl's gone down on me? Get real, Blondie."

He chuckled. "No, you're right. I should have figured. I'm, um, sorry I missed that?" he offered facetiously—mostly.

She nudged his arm with her elbow. "Seriously, though, why'd you bail? I didn't buy that work emergency excuse for a minute."

He shrugged uncomfortably, staring blankly at the words on his screen. "I don't know. I just didn't feel right participating."

Perplexed, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Why? I mean, you haven't had a problem doing it before then," she reminded him.

He gave her a pointed look. "Do I need to remind you that you kind of left me with no choice the first night?"

She shrugged. "Okay, but the time after that you were definitely down. And the time after that. I know you had sex with some women while you were there."

He looked around again and urged her with his eyes to keep her voice down. "Just one woman," he corrected.

"You only had sex there once?" she asked, confused, and he felt his stomach drop. Shit. He swallowed nervously.

"Uh, no, just...one woman."

She stared at him dumbly while she worked out what she was saying. He turned back to his computer, pretending to be writing, but he kept deleting whatever he typed.

"Wait...how did you only have sex with one woman there but on different occasions?"

He cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles to distract himself from looking at her. "I just—it just worked out that way," he hedged carefully, but he knew it was useless.

"What, so, one woman three different times? Sorry, but the odds don't work that way," she quipped, and he could feel the heat of her stare on the side of his head. "What did you do?"

His eyes widened, dropping to the keyboard. "Nothing! Nothing, I just...there was a woman there, and we kind of...hit it off, I guess. I mean, she enjoyed sleeping with me, and I enjoyed sleeping with her, so you know...I just made it so that we got each other every time."

Oh God, saying it out loud sounded so much worse. He knew his face was on fire, and he braced himself for Johanna's lecture. It didn't come; instead, she cackled uproariously, slapping her thigh.

"Oh, my God, Blondie, you're such a little shit! So, you basically rigged it to make the same woman fuck you each time?" she clarified, and this time he glared at her, horrified.

"No! I didn't  _make_ her do anything," he hissed under his breath. "It wasn't like that. I—she wanted to have sex with me. I mean—we didn't even have sex the last time. We just talked for a while." He knew he was trying to find any way to rationalize it, but he couldn't stand the way Johanna had just so bluntly simplified what had happened between him and Katniss.

She fell silent then, her face going slack. He was confused. "What?" he demanded, glancing around anxiously.

She shook her head, giving a low whistle. "I can't believe it—I mean, I know I joked about it, but you actually fucked somebody there thinking it was something more."

He jerked back, appalled. "What—no, I didn't! I'm perfectly capable of separating sex and feelings, Jo," he snapped, anger and panic surging to the surface, and she just laughed.

"Maybe you are, Blondie, but I think you went and fell in love with a swinger. You done fucked up," she intoned seriously, and he scowled at her. She held her hands up. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. Just calling it like I see it. So, who is she? I bet I'll remember her."

"I'm not telling you," he gritted out, typing senseless sentences on the screen, his hands trembling slightly. "It doesn't matter; it's nothing serious." He knew he was trying to convince himself more than her, though.

"If you say so," she sighed, smacking his arm lightly. "Just be careful, Mellark." With that, she stood up and left.

He couldn't even focus on the words in front of him; they kept blurring in and out in his vision as he tried not to freak out, his mind and heart racing. Her words echoed in his head:  _I think you went and fell in love with a swinger._

Well, fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more chapters left. And I promise, there will be smut in the next one.


	8. Chapter 8

Peeta wasn't in love. Johanna was wrong. A little infatuated, maybe, but he was old enough to recognize the difference. It was just a mix of good— _fantastic_ —sex and a crush, that was all.

Johanna was wrong. And he was going to prove it to her.

The two of them went to Snow's one last time; his research was mostly done and the article nearly finished, but this time he wasn't there under any pretense. No, this time he was there to actually have sex. With a woman other than Katniss.

It wasn't that hard to do, he reminded himself; he'd had a few one-night stands in college. So he knew he was capable of it; a little rusty in his moves, sure, but he'd worked out the kinks with Katniss. Really, how difficult would it be to translate that to another woman at the party?

So, he mostly ignored Katniss that night. When she'd smiled and waved at him upon his arrival, he'd returned it politely enough, but then he made a concerted effort to talk to everybody else in the room but her. He could tell she was confused and hurt when he'd inadvertently make eye contact with her; the look she gave him made his chest tighten, but after making an apologetic face, he'd just return to the conversation at hand.

It was for the best, in the end. And about half of the women there were women he found at least reasonably attractive, so he didn't think it would take much to get it up for whomever he got. He hoped. He knew Johanna was watching him closely to see if she could figure out who the woman was that he'd been hooking up with, so he tried not to linger with any one person more than the others. Good thing he usually got along so well with people.

When it was time for the festivities to begin—Snow was back to the key party theme—Peeta didn't wait around too long to make his move; he was certain he could feel the heat of Katniss' stare on his back as he stepped up to the bowl and fished out a set of keys.

They weren't hers—he'd made sure of that.

They belonged to a tall, slender, platinum-blonde named Glimmer; he'd had a few pleasant conversations with her over the past few weeks. She was very attractive, too. This couldn't have worked out more perfectly, really.

As he took her hand, she giggled breathlessly and leaned into him. Turning toward the hallway, he caught a glimpse of Katniss' face; her expression was one of shock and utter bewilderment. And betrayal. He tried not to think about it as he led Glimmer to a bedroom, but that look haunted him.

The second he shut the door, Glimmer was on him, entangling her arms around his neck; he fell backward into the door, caught off guard by her bodily proximity. "I've been wanting to try you for weeks now," she purred, her breath hot on his face.

His eyes were wide, but he tried to chuckle. "Um—yeah," was all he could manage, because, really, he hadn't thought about her at all.

It didn't stop his body from reacting all the same to the feel of her plump lips against his, her tongue sliding against his, her breasts pressed against his chest. And for the moment, he forgot everything else.

When she began to stroke his stiffening cock through his pants, his hands automatically found the zipper on her dress; he tugged it down and quickly disrobed her, the dress pooling at her feet. His eyes cracked open and skimmed down her form, widening slightly. Shit. She was completely naked. His cock swelled more at the sight of her large, bare breasts.

Glimmer pushed him toward the bed, breaking the kiss to kneel in front of him on the floor. Suddenly, he was thinking clearly again.

"Wait, do you—I have my STD results if you want to see them first," he forced out as she unzipped him, already reaching for his wallet where he kept the piece of paper folded up, but she just shook her head, eagerly parting his fly.

"It's fine; I trust you," she murmured, grinning at him wickedly as she palmed him through his boxer-briefs.

_But you shouldn't_ , he thought, stunned, and then he was thinking of Katniss again, and it was like a shock of cold water to his system. Shaking his head, Peeta pushed her hands away when she pulled his cock out. This was wrong, all of it. He didn't want this. And now all he could think about was Katniss with another guy, some guy guy she didn't want, and her words came back to him— _"I'm just worried that the guy I end up with is going to be an asshole"—_ and he felt sick. What a shithead he was, leaving her to her own devices like that when she'd essentially come to depend on his presence at these things.

Glimmer was staring at him in confusion, and he shook his head again. "Sorry—I just—I can't. I think...I think I ate something bad earlier; it's not sitting right with me. I'm sorry," he rambled, hastily shoving his cock back into his underwear and standing up. He was halfway to the door before she finally objected.

"Are you serious?! You're just going to leave like that?" she screeched after him, and he bumbled another apology before flinging the door open and rushing out into the hallway.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. He'd really fucked this up. Fastening his pants back up, he realized his shirt was untucked, so he clumsily stuffed it back into his pants as he hurried down the hallway. When he looked up, he nearly tripped on the rug.

Katniss.

She stood near the entrance, her arms folded around herself protectively; her eyes narrowed at him as he neared. His heart lurched into his throat, and he almost started to backtrack until he realized he had nowhere to go but back into that room. And he had no idea if Glimmer was going to come after him. So he approached her like he was approaching a wounded animal.

Except she didn't look wounded. She looked pissed as hell. He briefly wondered if he was the wounded animal in this scenario.

"Katniss—" he started, but she cut him off.

"I thought you didn't want to sleep with anyone else," she snapped, and the hostility that dripped from her words actually made him take a step back. He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing hard.

"I didn't. I  _don't_. I haven't," he said, his tone and face honest. He gestured behind him vaguely. "I didn't even...now. I just...I walked out. I couldn't."

Her face softened, but she regarded him suspiciously. "You didn't?" she repeated. He shook his head. Her eyes narrowed. "Then why did you..." She didn't have to finish the question; he knew:  _Then why did you not pick my keys?_  He looked at her beseechingly.

"You know why," he said solemnly, and she finally dropped his gaze, abashed, her cheeks filling with color. She had to know what they were doing, how deep they were in now. He wanted to tell her he was trying to help her, really, that he knew he'd fucked this up, and he had tried to make it better for her.

He was going to tell her as much, too, but she spoke before he could, again. "I couldn't do it either," she blurted, tugging on the sleeves of her jacket that overlapped her hands. "I mean, I couldn't sleep with the guy I got. It was weird. I don't know. I wasn't comfortable. I didn't want it. So I told him I was sick and that I needed to throw up, and I ran out of there. I don't think he's too happy."

Peeta blinked, once, twice. And then he couldn't help it; he laughed lightly, tugging on his curls. "I did the same thing, actually. Told her I was sick and pretty much beat it the hell out of there." Katniss cracked a smile, finally. Sighing, he glanced behind him back down the hallway, then back to her. "Fuck, I should...I need to leave; I don't know if she's gonna come out of the room, and I don't want to make her feel worse about ditching her."

She nodded absently. "Yeah, I need to leave, too," she agreed quietly. He started for the door, but she stepped in front of him, pushing on his chest to stop him. "Wait. Can we...can we go somewhere?"

His eyes bulged as he stared down at her, and when she met his gaze, she looked away immediately, her face pulling into a chagrined scowl. "Don't. Don't look at me like that," she said tightly. He swallowed again, barely daring to breathe.

What else could he do but say yes?

He nodded, and that was all she needed; she followed him out the door.

* * *

She tailed him to his apartment separately in her own car. His heart was in his throat the entire drive as he debated the ramifications of their actions. Objectively, he knew it was a bad idea. But he kept driving, anyway, soon pulling into the parking lot of his townhouse. Katniss parked beside him, and he climbed out of his car to greet her. He practically trembled with nervous energy, keeping his hands in his pockets.

"Is this where you live?" she asked unnecessarily, stepping up onto the sidewalk next to him. Her gaze was trained on the townhouse before them, seemingly avoiding looking at him. He just nodded in response, shuffling his feet. After a moment, he led her up the steps to his house, jiggling his keys nervously in his pocket before he pulled them out to unlock the front door.

Once Peeta had the door open, he waved her inside and closed the door behind them, flipping on some lights. He was suddenly starkly aware of the state of disarray his apartment was in, and, embarrassed, he apologized to her under his breath and made a hasty attempt to organize. He blanched at the sight of his notes and library books about swinging on the coffee table and gathered them all in his hands, shoving them onto a bookshelf out of the way.

When he turned back to her, he realized she hadn't budged from her spot near the entryway, and he frowned.

He didn't know what to do or even what she wanted him to do. There was only one reason why she wanted to leave the mansion with him that he could figure, but there was no way he was going to make the first move.

He moved closer to her but stopped about a foot in front of her. Clutching her purse to her side, she finally met his gaze. "So...your girlfriend won't be...?"

Peeta closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Shit. He nearly forgot. "No..." He opened his eyes and clenched his fists at his sides. He had to tell her. She was going to hate him, but he had to tell her. "Katniss, I don't know how—"

"Shut up." He blinked at her, shocked by her directive. Her eyebrows furrowed. "That came out wrong. I just meant...stop talking. Okay? Can you not say anything right now?"

Baffled, he ignored her request and opened his mouth to respond, but she stepped flush against him, dropping her purse to the floor and rising on her toes to kiss him. Her tongue slipped easily into his mouth, awakening his with a flickering touch. Her arms wound themselves around his neck, and he cupped her face while he licked his way into her mouth. She whimpered slightly; he groaned in answer, dropping his hands to her hips to tug her tighter against him. When she hitched her thigh up around his, he hooked a hand under her knee and opened her wider to him, their groins pressing together.

He inadvertently thrust against her, and she pulled away from his mouth to gasp; he chased after her, capturing her lips again, and he looped his arms around her ass to hoist her off the ground and carry her into his bedroom, her flats slipping off in the process. Peeta kicked the leg of a console table and, cursing to himself, regretfully broke the kiss so he could see his path. Katniss peppered wet, open-mouth kisses along his jaw and neck, sucking his earlobe into her mouth; he groaned quietly, faltering slightly in his steps.

At his bed, he let her slide to the ground and pushed her jacket off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor. Then he fisted the hem of her dress and yanked it off over her head so she stood before him in only her underwear. He'd just leaned in to kiss her again when she pulled his shirt out of his pants and began hastily unbuttoning it.

"Help me," she urged, and he took care of the top buttons until their hands met in the middle, then he quickly shrugged out of his shirt. She was already working on his pants, and he toed his shoes off. His idle hands fidgeted with her bra straps, his fingers dipping under them as she pushed his pants down his legs. He already missed kissing her, so when she stood up again, he pulled her into his arms; they both sighed when his tongue connected with hers again. He moved her toward the bed, trying to lay her down, but she twisted him underneath her. Kneeling between his legs on the mattress, she sat back and reached behind her to unhook her bra. He groaned in appreciation when her breasts spilled forth; he beckoned for her, but she hovered over his groin, hooking her fingers under the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Slowly, almost tauntingly, she inched them down his thighs just enough to expose his cock, her hungry stare making him harder. When she wrapped her hand around his length, he moaned, closing his eyes as she pumped his shaft to get him fully hard.

But his eyes popped open again when he felt her warm, moist breath on the head of his cock. Her eyes were locked on his face, the look in them unreadable.

"So, you haven't been with anyone else at Snow's?" she murmured, her thumb tracing the ridge of his head, and he jerked against her hand involuntarily, groaning.

"No, no, I haven't. Katniss," he gasped, the sound extending into a hiss when she pressed a wet kiss to his tip. Then she swirled her tongue around the head, licking it generously. His eyes fluttered closed, but they snapped open once again when she sucked him into her mouth; he had to watch. Her hand continued to work the base of his cock, stroking up and down, while she suckled the head. She pulled back after a moment and licked her lips. His eyes followed the circular path of her lips, and he sighed. She moved her mouth to hover over his cock again, her lips parted slightly, but then she paused. Peeta was momentarily confused, but then he felt a dribble of saliva hit his head; when she took him into her mouth again, the suction was much wetter this time. He groaned louder, his eyes shutting reflexively. "Oh, fuck, that feels good."

He didn't think it could feel any better—until she tugged on his sac. He gasped, his hips thrusting off the bed slightly, and he threaded his fingers through her hair to guide the movements of her mouth. "Fuck, Katniss," he whined. She moaned in response, and he strained against the urge to push farther into her mouth as the sound reverberated around the head of his cock.

Katniss sucked her cheeks in as she worked him, her fist pumping faster, tightening harder. He fought it as long as he could until he was moaning and panting. "Katniss, if you don't—you should—you might want to stop now," he warned hoarsely, barely coherent. To his surprise, and delight, she redoubled her efforts, her tongue flicking teasingly over his slit.

Oh, God, she was going to do it.

He stared at her in amazement, but when his balls tightened, his face screwed up, and he went rigid underneath her, emptying himself down her throat. Somewhere through the haze of his grunts, he heard the wet sounds of her tongue and mouth as she swallowed his cum, licking his cock of the last of it.

She released him, his softening cock drooping to his thigh; he was lost in the euphoria of his orgasm for a moment, but when he finally opened his eyes, she was still kneeling over him, her hands braced on either side of his waist. Her gray eyes were hooded with desire; he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her look more sure of herself.

It was sexy as hell.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, his hand palming the back of her head to draw her face to his for a heated kiss. She lost her balance and slumped against him, but he held her to his chest, his tongue desperately stroking hers; he laid back down with her stretched out on top of him. He broke the kiss to suck in air and then slid out from underneath her, letting her collapse to the bed. He kicked off his boxer-briefs and made quick work of her panties, yanking them off her feet. Katniss struggled to flip over, but the weight of his body on top of hers pinned her to the mattress. An exhaled puff of air escaped her lips, revealing her confusion, but he just spread her legs with his knee and wedged his arms under her body to knead her breast. His other hand slipped between her thighs, his fingers easily sliding through the damp curls and her wet folds to find her clit.

"Oh!" she cried out as he pressed down on it, his fingers setting a steady rhythm and pattern. Her ass bucked up against his pelvis, and he palmed her breast roughly, pinching the nipple between his fingers. Her hands fisted in the pillow, and he nuzzled his face against her shoulder, nipping at her skin, dragging his teeth over the taut muscles there. "Peeta," she moaned, and she buried her face in the pillow.

"Katniss," he echoed back, his voice throaty and low, and her hips thrust off the bed more wildly as he stroked her clit. The way she strained against him told him she was close, and his fingers moved faster until she was shouting into the pillow; he rubbed her clit while she rode out her orgasm, then he moved his fingers through her folds, feeling the flutters of her muscles and the wetness seeping out of her.

After she calmed down, he withdrew his hands and moved off of her to her side. She turned her head, eyeing him glassily; he smirked and touched his forehead to hers. Her ragged pants were hot against his mouth. "Are you ready yet?" she asked.

He laughed low in his throat. "No, you came too fast," he teased, and she just groaned, hiding her face in the pillow again. He nudged her side. "Roll over." She complied, her movements slow, and he settled between her legs, pushing her knees up. When his face aligned with her center, she inhaled deeply.

"I might be too sensitive," she murmured shyly, watching him through lidded eyes.

"I'll go slow then," he assured, then he flicked his tongue between her folds, thrusting it inside her. Katniss moaned softly, arching off the bed, and she knotted her hands in his hair. His tongue moved leisurely, and he took his time, exploring every crevice, stroking her walls, drawing her arousal into his mouth to swallow eagerly. He snaked a hand up to palm her breast, his fingers tugging on her nipple. She yelped quietly, her hips rocking against his face. Her hands yanked on his curls, trying to urge him toward her clit, and he felt the responding tug in his cock. He figured it was time to stop teasing her, so he dragged his tongue up to her clitoris to suck it into his mouth.

"Oh, God," she whimpered, beginning to squirm under him. He worried the nub with his teeth gently, his fingers teasing her nipple. It wasn't long before he was hard again, and her hips' movements grew increasingly more frenzied. He sucked harder to get her to come, but she pushed on his forehead. "Stop, stop, stop," she chanted, and he pulled away.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head, her chest heaving. "Nuh-nothing, just—just...sex. Now," she panted.

Peeta repositioned himself quickly, leaning over her body to find a condom from his night stand. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed frantic kisses to his neck, sucking and licking the skin while he fumbled with the condom square. He barely managed to get it on before she pushed him onto his back to straddle his waist. Their hands moved together to position his cock between her thighs, and then she sunk down onto him with a full-belly groan.

Leveraging herself on her shins, she thrust up and down his length; her walls squeezed around him every time she dropped her hips, and he groaned his approval, his hands on her hips to help guide her. He loved watching her like this: her breasts bouncing with her motions, her head thrown back and her lips parted with her whimpers, her hands locked firmly around his.

Katniss changed her direction suddenly, falling forward to brace her hands against his chest; she began to rock forward, rubbing her clit against his pelvis. He thought he knew her tells by now, that signaled when she was about to come: Her moans grew louder, muffled only when she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth; her cheeks and her breasts flushed a brighter red. He bucked his hips up against her, pulling on her thighs to help her in her quest. When he felt the beginning contractions of her walls around his cock, he moaned.

"I love watching you come," he growled as she came undone, her hips slowing as she mewled breathlessly.

The way she pulsed and throbbed around him was exquisitely excruciating; he flipped her onto her back, rolling on top of her. He wasted no time as he began driving into her, his thrusts relentless. She cried out loudly every time their hips met, her legs coming up to cradle him against her. Gritting his teeth, Peeta buried his face against her neck, his grunts smothered in the hollow of her throat. The sound of their flesh slapping together was hypnotic, lulling him into a fast, desperate rhythm. A sheen of sweat coated his skin now, perspiration beading along his hairline as he thrust into her, over and over. Soon, he felt the tell-tale tightening in his balls, and he gasped.

"Katniss, I'm gonna come," he rasped out, groping her breast in his hand between them.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded her assent encouragingly. "Please, Peeta," she keened in his ear. His hips jerked erratically against hers when he came a moment later, filling the condom with his semen. He grunted into her breasts, falling silent save for his heavy breathing. He stopped moving as his orgasm subsided, resting his body against hers, though he was careful to hold back his full weight.

After he pulled out of her and disposed of the used condom, he flopped onto his back with a tired sigh and closed his eyes. Katniss shifted beside him. "I need to clean up," she whispered, the sound of her voice forcing his eyes open again.

"Okay," he murmured, squeezing her arm before she climbed out of bed. His eyelids drooped again; he decided to rest them while she was in the bathroom, listening to the sound of running water.

Her touch on his shoulder startled him awake; she was kneeling on the bed beside him, fully dressed. His eyes widened. "I must have fallen asleep, I'm sorry," he murmured; her lips spasmed into a small smile.

"I should go," she whispered.

His face fell. "Oh. Right," he said hollowly, propping himself up on his elbows. She fidgeted with her hands in her lap, neither of them sure what to say, and his heart ached; he didn't know what to do. It seemed wrong to let her go, but he knew it was wrong to ask her to stay. "Well..." he trailed off, but she leaned forward then to kiss him, touching her tongue to his. She withdrew it just as quickly, but she didn't pull away. Her gray eyes watched him; they were heavy. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, and then she moved seamlessly with him, tucking her head against his shoulder; Peeta lay back down, pulling her with him. They stayed like that for a while, her head resting on his chest, his hand stroking her hair. All that passed between them was the sound of their breathing.

He really didn't want to let her go.


	9. Chapter 9

Tying off her braid, Katniss' hands stilled as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was just another day, much like every other one, but somehow it still felt so different.

She was lost inside her head. For the most part, her thoughts were all over the place, but she couldn't seem to settle on just one, creating a droning buzz in the back of her mind that she was largely able to ignore. She was pretty good at playing oblivious, really; she could go about her day better this way without being forced to confront any of the concerns that plagued her.

It had been four days since she saw Peeta last. Since she went to his house, since they crossed some invisible line. She'd been reluctant to leave him that night, comfortable in the small, temporary cocoon they'd created in his room. When she'd finally managed to drag herself away from him before it got too late, she'd been too numb to really think about anything that had transpired that night. Gale was already in bed and asleep by the time she got back home; she had done her best not to wake him.

It was mostly easy to avoid the full weight of the situation; waking up the next day, she had felt so far removed from her actions and the person she'd been that night. She could easily compartmentalize it. Gale had taught her that; it wasn't that difficult to separate their weekend activities from the other aspects of their "normal" and professional lives. So while she often thought about Peeta, she didn't afford herself much introspection about their— _her_ —actions.

Until moments like this, when she was forced to look at herself head on—quite literally.

It had been a mistake to leave Snow's that night. She should have just gone home. She wasn't sure what had compelled her to stay after she'd walked out on Brutus, the man who had pulled her keys. The name was apt; he was large and hulking, and she was pretty sure he could crush her if he felt so inclined. He was nice, she guessed, if not a little sweaty and mildly skeevy. She'd barely said more than a few words to him in passing during all her time at the mansion. She just couldn't do it—she couldn't have sex with him. She'd been too preoccupied with Peeta and what he was doing in another room, and she'd been almost out the front door when she'd realized how angry she was.

So she'd decided to wait to see if he'd really meant what he'd said about not wanting to sleep with anyone else. Despite her rage, she believed him, for some bizarre reason. She didn't know how she knew he'd change his mind; she just did. She'd felt it in her gut.

She still didn't know what it said about her that she stayed for him. She definitely didn't know what it meant that she went home with him.

Shaking her head, Katniss exited the bathroom and made her way to the living room. Gale was at his usual spot at the dining table, reading the newspaper, eating his oatmeal and drinking his coffee. "Good morning," she said softly as she steered herself into the kitchen, flashing him a tight smile when he looked up. She felt a little on edge around him now. She didn't do well with guilt.

"Morning," he greeted, turning back to the paper. Opening the pantry, she started to reach for her usual Multi-Grain Cheerios when she faltered; she grabbed the box of Golden Grahams instead. After she'd poured her bowl, she joined Gale at the table and quietly began spooning the cereal into her mouth. She watched the top of his head as he read, silently absorbed in the newspaper.

"Anything interesting today?" she asked finally, like she did every morning; sometimes he had an interesting news story to share, but most of the time he reported nothing of note.

He glanced up at her and chuckled. "Actually, yeah. You won't believe it, but there's an article about swinging in the paper. About the culture of swingers in this town, actually."

Her eyes widened, her spoon slipping slightly from her grip. "What?"

"Yeah, it talks about Snow's and everything. It's a pretty good piece," he said, folding the paper back to the story and sliding it across the table in front of her. "Here, give it a read. It sounds like this reporter actually went to Snow's himself, but I don't remember meeting a Peeta."

Her heart stopped at his name, and her gaze dropped to the story, seeking the byline.

And there it was:  _By Peeta Mellark._

She was too stunned to react beyond an open-mouthed stare, the newspaper gripped weakly in her hands. Gale sipped his coffee casually, seemingly unfazed. Her mouth moved sluggishly until she forced the words out, but she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to ask. "Are we..."

"Mentioned? Nah. It seems like the only people actually named are Snow and his wife, but that's not really a big secret," he answered, pushing away from the table to stand up. He took his empty bowl and mug into the kitchen. She just continued to gawk stupidly at the newspaper, unwilling and unable to read past the byline.  _By Peeta Mellark_. She kept repeating the words in her head until they blurred together; her blood thundered in her ears as her heart pumped forcefully, and she felt lightheaded all of a sudden. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against her hand to steady herself.

_By Peeta Mellark._ He was a fucking reporter. Of course—he even  _told_  her. How did she not put it together sooner what he was doing?

"Hey, are you freaked out?" Her eyes shot open at Gale's words as he approached the table again, a look of concern on his face. She was sure her face had paled considerably, and he cupped her cheeks. "Don't stress yourself over it. There's nothing that indicates us in any way, if that's what you're worried about. No one would read it and think you're involved at all, so you don't have to worry about your job or anything." He kissed her forehead, but she still didn't react. "Just give it a read; I think you'll feel better once you see for yourself you have nothing to worry about."

She didn't think so; she was pretty sure she was going to feel worse after she read it.

"I gotta go, but I love you, okay? Give me a call later if you think you need to talk," he suggested. She just nodded mutely, still too shaken up to respond. "See you tonight." One last kiss to her lips, and then he was gone.

The sound of the door shutting roused her, and she sucked in a desperate breath of air, her chest seizing painfully. Suddenly, she needed to read the article immediately. She snatched up the paper and began poring over it, devouring every word until she had finished it.

She had been right: She felt worse.

There was no mention of her that she could tell, but it was little comfort as the full truth finally sank in. Peeta was a reporter; he had done a story on swinging. That was why he'd been at Snow's. To write a story. Not to swing, even though he'd fucked her, anyway. He had deceived her.

The sense of betrayal flared up inside her so strongly, she nearly choked on it. Betrayal—how  _ludicrous_. To be betrayed, she would have had to have trusted Peeta, and she didn't just trust anybody, especially not people she'd only known for a handful of weeks.

And yet...somehow she did—she had come to trust him, in a way. He'd deliberately gotten under her skin, made her confide in him, made her sleep with him, made her cheat on her husband, all for a story.

Her eyes widened at the thought. Oh, God, he'd made her  _cheat_  on her husband. Until that moment she hadn't thought of it in such plain, ugly terms. Her stomach dropped, and she released the paper as if burned. This man had tricked her into having an affair.

Suddenly, she wasn't upset—she was fucking pissed.  _Enraged_. She was halfway to the door before she remembered she had to go to work and cursed loudly. She couldn't do anything about the article now—though, what she was going to do about it, she wasn't exactly sure. But she had to talk to him. She had to do  _something_ ; she had to hold onto her rage, or else she was going to throw up and have a complete mental breakdown.

Lunch. She could confront him on her lunch break. As she threw on her jacket and grabbed her purse, her gaze drifted to the dining table and the open newspaper. Her nostrils flared, her body starting to shake with all her suppressed rage, and she snatched the paper off the table. She didn't know how she was going to make it to lunch.

She suddenly wished she had her bow and arrows on her.

* * *

Katniss stormed into the building, the wrinkled newspaper clutched in her fist. She followed the signs for The Panem Chronicle until she ended up at a front desk, where a woman in an obnoxiously sea-green skirt suit was filing her nails, her blonde curls piled up high on her head. Katniss was about to blow right past her, but the woman noticed her first and jumped out of her seat. "Oh, excuse me, miss! Can I help you?" she trilled in a gratingly high-pitched voice.

Katniss tried to school her expression into something less angry and scary, but she wasn't sure she succeeded. She glanced at the nameplate on the desk. Effie Trinket. "Yeah—I need to talk to Peeta Mellark," she practically spat through clenched teeth.

Effie smiled. "Is he expecting you? Let me call him right now—"

"No!" Katniss interrupted; if he knew she was hear, he would know what it was about, and she didn't want to give him the chance to come up with some sob-story defense. "I mean, yes, he's expecting me, but I already talked to him before I got here, and he said to just go right in."

Effie looked confused, but she kept her smile in place as she sat back down. "Oh, okay. Well, just right through the doors, then. You should find him in the newsroom."

With a stiff nod, Katniss passed through the double swinging doors, already spotting his mop of familiar blonde curls through the glass windows. She felt her blood pressure spike just at the sight of him. So focused on him, she almost missed the short-haired woman standing to his right—Johanna. Katniss narrowed her eyes farther, and as she stomped closer, Peeta finally glanced at her.

If she wasn't so pissed, his expression might have been comical. His jaw dropped, his face going sheet-white; Johanna followed his line of sight, and when her eyes landed on Katniss, they went wide, her mouth forming a perfect circle as realization seemed to hit her.

" _Ohhh_ ," she said slowly, knowingly. "Hey, Kitty Kat."

Peeta finally found his voice. "Katniss—"

But she didn't let him finish, hurling the crumpled newspaper at him. "You fucking asshole! It was all bullshit, wasn't it?" she yelled, her voice rising into a shrill despite herself.

She was suddenly aware of just how many other people filled the newsroom; all pairs of eyes were firmly on her. Her rage deflated quickly, mortification swelling up in its place, and she spun on her heel and ran out of the newsroom, not even bothering to give him a chance to respond.

"Katniss, wait!"

She was aware he was following her, but she didn't stop, storming past the front desk and out the entrance doors. She was halfway to her car when Peeta grabbed her arm. "Katniss, please—"

Whirling around, she shoved him away from her, hard. "Don't you dare to touch me!" she screeched—actually  _screeched_. He released her arm and stumbled back a couple steps, his eyes round with alarm,

He held his hands up to her plaintively. "I'm sorry! Katniss,  _please_ , just let me explain—"

"You don't need to explain, Peeta!" she yelled, taking a threatening step toward him. "I get it now! You're a lying, deceitful piece of shit! You lied to get into my pants, and then you tricked me into cheating on my husband!"

Aghast, he recoiled like she had physically slapped him. "No, I— _no_ , I wasn't trying to get into your pants, Katniss, I swear!" he pleaded. "I didn't plan anything like that. I just—I went there for research, but I didn't intend...I never intended to...to..."

"Do you even have a girlfriend? Are you even actually dating Johanna?" she demanded. His mouth clamped shut, and she saw him visibly swallow. Then he shook his head slowly.

"No," he whispered, and her mouth twisted into a snarl. It all made sense now. She had a feeling from the start about them, didn't she? She knew it didn't make sense. How little they interacted at Snow's, how they hardly touched, how there were no photos of Johanna or mementos of any kind of female presence in his apartment—but she'd willfully ignored all these signs. Because she was a fucking idiot.

"I bet you were just laughing the entire time, weren't you? You got to fuck a married woman, and I was none the wiser—is this some kind of sick game for you? Do you just prey on stupid, naïve women?" she spat, her hands trembling at her sides.

His expression was pained. "No,  _no_ , it wasn't like that at all, Katniss. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I tried to tell you, I did—"

She snorted. "Oh, did you? Did you try  _really_  hard, Peeta? What, were you too busy going down on me to speak? Was that the problem then?" she asked sarcastically.

Distressed, he scrubbed his hands over his face. "I fucked up, I know, I  _know_! I'm sorry."

"Were you telling the truth about  _anything_?" she implored, her desperation almost overriding her anger. "Was  _any_  of it real?"

His eyes widened again. "Yes! Yes, it was real, what I felt—what I  _feel_  for you—that's real! I started doing the article, but I didn't expect you and I—"

"You and I  _nothing_ , Peeta! There is no you and I! I have a husband, and you are nothing to me!" She was screaming now, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever sounded this hysterical before in her life. How dare he insinuate anything about the two of them. like he had any clue what she thought or felt. Peeta looked stricken by her words, rendered speechless.

Good. She hoped she had hurt him as much as he'd hurt her.

She couldn't bear it any longer. She thought if she stood there another minute, she was going to completely shatter. Spinning around, she rushed to her car, her hand shaking as she unlocked her car and hastily climbed inside. Peeta didn't call out after her, didn't follow her; the last she saw of him was his form in her rearview mirror, exactly as she'd left him, watching her drive away.

* * *

Gale was barely through the front door when she threw herself at him, pulling him into a heated kiss.

"Whoa, hey," he managed through kisses, chuckling gruffly. He secured his arms around her waist and slipped his tongue into her mouth to stroke hers leisurely. When he pulled back, he bumped her nose with his. "Miss me?"

She nodded, threading her fingers through his hair to pull his lips back to hers. "I want you," she mumbled, dipping her tongue into his mouth repeatedly. She could feel his body reacting to her advances.

Gale settled his hands on her hips to try to break the kiss, his lips spreading in a smile against hers. "I see that. I want you, too. But let me go shower first. I'm still dirty from work."

Katniss shook her head, trying to deepen the kiss. "No, now," she demanded, guiding him backwards to the couch. He laughed when they tumbled down onto the cushions, him falling on top of her. In a flurry of quick hands and tangled limbs, their discarded clothes soon hit the floor. She held onto his neck, unwilling to release his mouth from hers, as his fingers reached between her thighs to light upon her clit. Sighing around his tongue, she bucked her hips to assist him; he withdrew his lips to kiss a trail down her neck, ignoring her whimper of protest, but when he sucked her nipple into his mouth, she moaned and dropped her head back on the arm of the couch.

She just wanted to forget about everything. She tried not to think, tried to just concentrate on the feel of his tongue flicking over the tips of her breasts, the feel of his nimble fingers rubbing her clit and dipping inside her. She tried not to think about Peeta, about how  _his_  mouth felt around her breasts, how his own fingers moved inside her, but it was impossible. Pain clenched her heart like a vise, and she bit down on her lip, all the pleasure that had surged between her thighs at Gale's fingertips receding quickly like a wave from the shore. She tried to swim after it, to submerse herself once again in the feel of her husband surrounding her, but the feeling eluded her.

Frustrated, Katniss pulled his hand away. At his questioning look, she tugged on his hips, rubbing her pelvis against his hard cock. She grasped it in her hand and positioned him between her legs; Gale did the rest, rolling his hips to sheath himself inside her. They both sighed in relief, and Katniss wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his ass to spur him on. He buried his face against her neck as he moved between her thighs, his hips rocking steadily. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she concentrated on the movements of his cock, sliding in and out of her. She bit down harder on her lip, unwanted thoughts threatening to push their way in.

It was no use. She couldn't fight it. Peeta was everywhere. She could hear his moans echoed in the sound of Gale's, could feel the impression of his cock stretching her walls, filling her up, like the memory was still fresh. It  _was_  fresh, only the other day, but it was just a memory now. She'd never know the feeling again.

And just like that, all at once, she was angry and distraught and broken, falling apart silently under a man who had no idea,  _no idea_  what she'd done. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she choked back a sob as she stared up at the ceiling, waiting for him to finish.

Her cheeks were wet by the time he finally did; when he glanced up at her, alarm clouded his face. "Hey, why are you crying? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" he asked, sitting up to lift his weight off of her. "Why didn't you say something? Baby, what's going on?"

Her eyes fluttered closed as his hands brushed at her tears, and her chest hitched in a quiet sob. She shook her head. "You—you didn't.  _I_  did. I hurt myself," she whimpered. She knew she wasn't making much sense; his eyes still belied his confusion.

"What?"

Pushing herself up, Katniss snatched her shirt off the floor and clutched it to her chest self-consciously. She swiped at her cheeks and took a deep breath. This was it, wasn't it? The moment of truth. She just hoped she didn't destroy him completely.

"Gale...I think I had an affair."

The words hung between them in the delicate silence of the room. She was too scared to breathe, her eyes glued to his face. But his confusion didn't change; she wondered if he had even heard her.

"What?" he finally asked, his brow furrowing. She noticed the wild glint in his eyes, rearing behind the veil of confusion.

"I—I slept with somebody else," she squeaked, her chest feeling tight.

Perplexed, he sat back and braced his arm against the back of the couch. "Okay...I know. I mean, I did, too. That's what we've been doing for the past month," he said carefully; she wasn't sure if he was speaking slowly for her sake or his own. She took a deep breath, clutching her shirt tighter.

"I meant...I mean that I slept with somebody else. Many times. One person. Each time we were at Snow's. And—and..." She swallowed, forcing out the next part, barely above a whisper, "And once at his place."

Gale blinked, and his entire expression shattered. "What?" he barked incredulously, and she stared at him wide-eyed. She didn't think she could repeat it.

"I—it was a mistake. I just—I got scared with the swinging—"

" _Scared_?"

She backtracked. "Not scared, just...uncomfortable, I guess, and I felt weird about—about having sex with a bunch of different people," she rambled.

He shook his head, holding up his hand. "Stop. I can't—I can't deal with this right now." He stood up abruptly, grabbing his pants off the floor to jerk his legs through them.

"What do you mean—where are you going?" she asked frantically, sitting forward, but he shot her a glare.

"Don't! I can't talk to you right now. I feel like I'm about to lose my shit. I just need to get out of here for a minute to process what you're telling me," he said through gritted teeth, yanking his shirt over his head.

"Gale..." she pleaded, but he ignored her, stalking toward the door. "I'm sorry, Gale! Please, don't go like this!"

He gave her no response. The door slammed shut a second later, causing her to jump. She didn't budge from her spot for the next few hours, only moving to put on her shirt and wipe away the tears that slipped steadily down her cheeks. Finally, around 11, she forced herself off the couch and into the shower. She stayed under the stream until the hot water ran out, then she dragged herself into their bed, curling up under the covers to sleep.

Gale didn't come home till nearly 1 in the morning. When the door opened, she jerked awake and sat up, blearily watching him as he shuffled into the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed heavily, his back to her, but he didn't speak. She found her voice first.

"Where did you go?" she asked softly.

He sighed. "The Hob. Just needed a drink and to clear my head." She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and waited for him to speak again. After a moment, he did, though he still didn't look at her. "Who was it?"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Does it matter?" she whispered, inexplicably feeling very protective of Peeta, despite everything.

"I don't know. Maybe. I'd still like to know."

She swallowed thickly. She couldn't protect Peeta. It wasn't her place. He'd betrayed her and used her, made her out to look like an idiot. Possibly damaged her marriage irreparably. Her responsibility wasn't to him. It was to her husband.

"Peeta." His name felt weird in her mouth; it sounded jarring to her ears, to finally say it out loud in the sanctuary of her home, and she shuddered involuntarily.

Gale finally twisted to look at her, his face creased in confusion. "I don't remember meeting a Peeta."

She licked her dry lips, averting her gaze. "You did. You...you thought his name was Peter, I think. He...um, he's the one who wrote that article..."

His lip curled as realization dawned on his face. "He wrote that article about us? You fucked a  _reporter_?"

"I didn't know!" she said defensively, then scrubbed a hand over her face. "He lied to me. I mean, he didn't lie, I guess—he misled me. I had no idea what he was actually doing there, that he wasn't a—a swinger." She took a breath to steady herself; it didn't matter. "I'm sorry, Gale."

He inhaled deeply and pressed the pads of his fingers to his eyes. Then he turned his steely gaze on her. "Tell me everything."

So she did. Gale didn't say a word while she spoke, but she noticed the way his jaw tightened. Once she had finished, his nostrils flared, and he closed his eyes. She braced herself for his next words.

"Do you have feelings for him?"

She looked away, tears blurring her eyes. She realized now that maybe she did—or had. At least, she thought she had. But how could she? It wasn't real. Peeta wasn't who she thought he was. She'd been played for a fool, but she wasn't that stupid to think she'd actually developed real feelings for him. What a fucking joke. She wiped at her tears and took a shaky breath. "I think...I think I just bonded with him because neither of us was into the swinging," she replied evasively. "It just made it easier for me, thinking there was someone else there like me, someone else I could count on, I guess."

"Katniss..." Gale's voice sounded strained. She looked back at him, her stomach clenching at the pain in his eyes. "Why didn't you just tell me you were uncomfortable with this?"

She shrugged helplessly. "Because you were so into it. It made you happy. I thought I could do it, I really did. You've—you've done so much for me, and I thought this was finally something I could do for you. I'm not even—I wasn't even mad about you sleeping with someone else, I just...I don't think I can do that kind of lifestyle, Gale. I can't...I can't do the random sex with a bunch of people I don't know. I don't think I'm capable of separating my feelings like that."

He narrowed his eyes, his anger flaring. "So...this is my fault, that you cheated?"

Her eyes widened. "No! No, I didn't mean it like that. I just...I was wrong for thinking I could do this. I messed up. I can't...I can't be a swinger, Gale. But I know you enjoy it. I think you need it...or you need something I'm not able to give you, I guess."

Gale frowned. "What are you saying?"

She shook her head helplessly. "I don't know, Gale. What can we do? What do you want to do?" She regarded him tentatively, a fresh round of tears stinging her eyes. "I guess...I'll leave it to you to decide. I understand if you want nothing to do with me after what I did."

His face went slack. "Jesus, Katniss. That's not what I want." He ran a hand through his hair, but then he dropped his head into his hands, falling silent. She wasn't sure how much time passed before he spoke again.

"I'm pissed, Katniss. And I'm hurt. Really hurt. But mostly confused. I thought about it for hours at that bar. Thought some really nasty things about you, actually," he said quietly from behind his hands. His words stung, but she swallowed her offense; she deserved it. He lifted his head to look at her, his brow furrowed. "Then I realized...I'm not really sure if I have a right to be mad. I think I do. But I guess I fucked up, too. I pushed you into this. This was new territory for us both, and I should have realized things could get messy. I was just oblivious to how you really felt. Or maybe I knew but just ignored it because I was being selfish."

Katniss shrugged half-heartedly. It wasn't like she could say anything about being selfish after what she'd done.

Sighing, Gale lay down and stretched out on his back. She watched him quietly for a moment; his eyes stay trained on the ceiling. "What do we do then?" she asked timidly. His eyes closed before opening again, and he reached for her hand.

"Try to work through it, I guess. Is that what you want?" he asked. She threaded her hand through his and nodded, letting him pull her down to his chest where she curled up against him. "Then we'll try to work through it."

She wondered if she was only imagining the doubt in his voice.


	10. Epilogue

Peeta was not prepared for the sight that greeted him on his doorstep as he pulled into the parking space in front of his townhouse. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't hallucinating. It was possible; he'd just been at the gym—he could be suffering from oxygen deprivation, for all he knew. Actually, he was convinced that was it. It had to be.

No way was Katniss Everdeen sitting on his steps.

He hadn't seen her for months—six, to be exact—since she'd stormed away from him in the parking lot at the newspaper. Not that he hadn't thought about her every day since. He had wanted to see her, but he had no way to contact her or find her. Actually, that wasn't exactly true. As a reporter, he  _could_ have done some digging—but that was a line he wasn't willing to cross, for many reasons. If she wanted nothing to do with him, as much as it killed him, he knew he had to respect that, especially after what he'd done.

Peeta put his car into park and cut his engine, but he didn't get out of his car just yet. He was too dazed; he needed a moment to gather his bearings and to just absorb the sight of her. She hadn't budged, her eyes locked on his through his windshield. His heart raced, but once he'd pulled himself together, he slowly gathered his gym supplies and climbed out of his car, locking it behind him. Juggling his towel and water bottle in one hand, he fiddled with his keys in the other as he carefully approached her. He stopped at the bottom step, afraid to move any closer, almost afraid to breathe should he disturb the illusion. She was still watching him intently, her elbows braced against her knees.

"Are you real?" he finally blurted; her eyebrow twitched slightly. Embarrassed, he elaborated, "I'm not sure I'm not just imagining this right now."

She moved then, sitting up straight and rubbing her palms on her thighs. "As far as I can tell," she replied quietly; the sound tugged at his heart. It was almost strange to hear her voice out loud after all this time and not just in his head. He leaned against the railing of his steps to steady himself and took a deep breath.

"Why are you...what are you doing here?" he asked timidly, almost daring to get his hopes up. Surely after six months, she wouldn't come back around just to yell at him some more.

She looked down. "I know it's been a while. You probably don't want anything to do with me at this point, but...I just thought we should talk."

His eyes widened slightly. "That's not true. I mean, about me not wanting anything to do with you. I just..." he faltered and adjusted the load in his hands to run a hand through his damp, sweaty curls. "I didn't have a way to reach you, and I figured it was best to leave you alone."

She nodded, her eyes still trained on her shoes. "It was. I, um, I realized, though, I might have been a little unfair to you the last time I saw you. I didn't give you a chance to speak, and...well, I guess there are some more things I would like to talk to you about, as well."

He felt sick to his stomach with nerves, and he licked his chapped lips. "Okay. Do you...want to come inside? Or would you feel more comfortable going somewhere else? I just got back from the gym," he tacked on unnecessarily, jiggling his keys.

Katniss tugged on her sleeves anxiously and finally peered up at him through her eyelashes. "Um, we can go inside. That's fine." She stood up and stepped out of the way to let him pass by her. He hurriedly unlocked the door and led her inside. He tried not to think about their last time together there; he hadn't washed his pillowcases for weeks after, until the lingering scent of her shampoo had faded away naturally.

Setting his stuff down on the bar, he turned to her. She was surveying the room nervously, her arms crossed over her chest. He wondered if she was thinking about last time, too. "Are you in a hurry?" he asked, and she shook her head. "Do you mind if I take a quick shower? I can be out in five minutes, I swear. You're welcome to watch TV or something," he offered, waving to the couch.

She shrugged and moved in that direction. "That's fine," she mumbled, sitting down. Peeta handed her the remote and hurried into his bedroom to shower. He was pretty sure he'd never taken a faster shower in his life. After he'd changed into fresh clothes, he emerged from his room. Katniss was still perched on his couch, listlessly flipping through channels. When she saw him, her mouth spasmed in the shape of a nervous smile, and she put the controller down.

"Um, can I get you anything to drink or eat?" he asked, glancing toward the kitchen, but she shook her head.

"No, thank you. I'm fine," she answered politely, and he shuffled closer, sitting down in a chair across from her. He cleared his throat, feeling extremely nervous; she seemed equally so, as she wouldn't meet his eyes directly. It was like they were strangers again. The thought squeezed painfully at his heart; he knew it was his fault.

"Katniss...I know I can never apologize enough for lying to you, but I'm sorry," he started. He took a deep breath to continue, but she cut him off.

"You don't—you don't have to keep apologizing, Peeta," she interjected, playing with her braid. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. Actually, I'm not sorry for  _that_ specifically, though I'm a little embarrassed in hindsight. But I put all the blame on you without hearing you out, so...I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to speak."

He blinked rapidly as he absorbed her words, flabbergasted. He wasn't sure how to respond. "I...thank you for apologizing, but I never felt like you owed me that."

She shrugged, smiling slightly. "I'm sure I put you in an awkward position having to explain that scene to your coworkers." An embarrassed flush colored her face.

Peeta chuckled at the recollection, scratching his jaw. "Ah, yeah, well, actually, it's not that uncommon to get irate readers storming into the newsroom, so they weren't necessarily shocked. Um," his eyes flickered over her face. "Don't worry, I didn't explain to anybody what it was about. Well, Jo figured it out, obviously. But I didn't tell anyone else." Johanna had given him so much shit about it, too. Which, normally, might have made him feel better, even if it was at his own expense, but it was hard to see the humorous side of things when his heart was broken. He hadn't been back to Snow's since, obviously; Peeta and Johanna were still friends with Finnick and Annie, but Johanna was the only one between the two of them still actively involved in the swinger lifestyle. Peeta had never been interested in swinging, anyway. Just Katniss.

"Well, thank you," she said, and he nodded stiffly. Looking down at her hands, Katniss began picking at her nails as if she were stalling. "Um...I told Gale."

His heart stopped. For some reason, he had not been expecting that. "Oh?" The sound caught in his throat, and he coughed to clear it. His eyes darted to the door, suddenly wary that her husband was going to barge in and tackle him for daring to sit in the same room as his wife. "I, ah...how..."

"We're not together anymore."

His stomach bottomed out, his mouth falling open. No,  _that_  was definitely the last thing he'd been expecting. He noticed for the first time that she wasn't wearing her wedding ring. Oh, God, had he actually ruined somebody's marriage? The thought made him ill. When he brought his wide-eyed stare back to her face, he realized she was watching him apprehensively. He swiped a hand through his wet hair and leaned his elbows against his knees. "I'm sorry," he murmured, stunned and unsure how to respond. His heart started to beat a little faster again.

Katniss clasped her hands together, her shoulder bouncing in a shrug. "Thank you, but, um, it's not your fault. I don't want you thinking that."

Peeta frowned, threading his fingers together. "Okay," he said uncertainly.

Wetting her lips, Katniss tugged on her hands, her sleeves, her hair, whatever she touched. "We, uh, we separated about three months ago. We're getting a divorce."

His chest tightened at her words; he actually had no idea what he was feeling. She watched him expectantly, her face reflecting his anxiety. "Why?" he found himself asking. It was a dumb question, but he didn't know what else to say.

She sighed, dropping his gaze again. "We just...the whole swinging thing brought a lot of issues to light. Um..." She glanced at him and made a face. "This is hard to talk about for me—can you not look at me?" she laughed a little sheepishly, and his eyebrows lifted.

"Oh, um, okay," he agreed, twisting in the chair so he was looking the other way toward the kitchen. He heard her take a deep breath.

"Um, anyway. We just realized we weren't really compatible, um...sexually, I guess you could say. And I know that sounds silly because obviously marriage is more than that, right?" He wasn't sure if she was prompting him to respond, and he almost opened his mouth to answer, but she continued, "And we have a lot of other things in common, but I think it just became obvious that Gale and I wanted different things when it came to our sex life, and I guess it really wasn't fair to make him deny his urges just because I'm not interested in those things. I mean, I didn't want to make him do that, you know? And if it were reversed, I know I would be unhappy."

The pause went on longer this time, as if she was actually expecting a response, so he hurried to chime in, "Uh, yeah, I can understand that."

"And I didn't want to keep him in our marriage unfulfilled just because I'm unwilling to compromise any more. He should be happy, and he should be with someone who is compatible with him in all these things, not someone who feels obligated to him. I realized that wasn't a great basis for a marriage."

His throat felt dry, but his palms were sweaty. He rubbed them together as he digested her words. He knew she told him not to apologize, but the guilt was roiling in his stomach again. He felt responsible. He  _was_ responsible. And he felt terrible. He was compelled to speak. "I'm really sorry, Katniss. I really hate that I contributed to this in any way," he apologized sincerely, keeping his eyes trained on the bar. "I never...I'm just sorry."

"It's okay," she said softly. "You can't really break something like this unless it's already fractured, I realized. This was just...a catalyst, I guess. We tried couples counseling for a little while after. We did try. But we just realized that perhaps it was best to dissolve the marriage now while there are no kids involved, you know? Before we get years down the road and realize we're angry and resentful of the other for doing things or not doing things we want, whatever the case is. I think it was the most maturely we've handled anything, honestly."

Distressed, Peeta dropped his head into his hands and curled his fingers through his hair, tugging on it. What a mess. And all for a damn article. Had it been worth it? He wasn't sure. Professionally, nothing had changed, really, aside from getting to expand the kind of stories he wrote. Personally...he was ashamed to admit it, but he didn't know if he could regret meeting Katniss. It was selfish, and he felt sick thinking it, especially knowing what it had cost her.

"I wish I had been honest with you from the start, Katniss. That's where I fucked up," he bemoaned. "I thought it would do more harm than good to reveal my intentions at the time, but, well, in hindsight, I know better."

"I wish you had, too," she replied. "But, honestly...even if you had, I don't know how different things would be now. And I'm almost at peace with the way they worked out, so...in a way, it wasn't all bad. I love Gale, but...I think I realized that I married him for the wrong reasons."

Peeta frowned and started to turn around when he remembered he wasn't supposed to look at her. "What do you mean?" he asked.

She sighed heavily. "I've known him a long time, and he's always been there for me, especially when my parents died. He helped me a lot, and I guess I kind of...felt like I owed him these things, to be this woman he loved, who loved him, too. And I do, still, but I just don't know how  _in_ love with him I was," she said, and then she laughed lightly. "I mean, at Snow's, I got more upset about  _you_ sleeping with other women than him, so I don't know what that says about me."

His heart leapt into his throat at her words; this time, he couldn't stop himself from turning around to fix his wide eyes on her. She looked equally shock, as if she'd just realized what she'd said. "What does that say about you, Katniss?" he asked, his voice strained, as he tried to stop his mind from reeling, from filling in the blanks. It was no good to get his hopes up...

She looked stricken, but then her face crumbled into an anxious grimace, color filling her cheeks, and she fidgeted with her hands again. "Ah, well, I guess...I guess that's the other part of why I came here to talk to you," she said nervously. Clearing her throat, she flattened her palms on her thighs. "At first, I really thought I was just misinterpreting my feelings of anxiety and confusion as, um, feelings—for you, that I'd latched onto the comfort you provided at these things—at Snow's, I mean. I told myself...no way was I stupid enough to—to care about somebody I hardly knew." Her lips twitched in a faint smile. "I guess I  _am_ stupid. Months later, and I still can't shake you."

His breath stuttered in his chest, and he stood then, circling the coffee table to sit down on it in front of her. "Katniss..." he murmured, gingerly taking her hands in his. She didn't resist, and he nearly sighed out loud at the first touch of her skin in six months. He glanced up to hold her gaze; her eyes shimmered like graphite in the soft daylight that filtered through his windows. Licking his lips, he forged ahead, "I hope you know that I like you, and I care about you. A great deal."

Her eyebrow curved upward, her mouth listing to the side. "Yeah?" she asked; he could hear the smile in her voice. Peeta nodded, gently rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. Her own thumbs moved to caress his fingers, and their mirrored actions seemed to lull them both into a dreamy daze.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, breaking the trance. "I just show up, and I don't even know if you're—if you're seeing somebody. Of course, you're probably seeing somebody—"

"Katniss," he interrupted with a brief chuckle, squeezing her fingers. "I'm not seeing anybody."

"No?" she asked; there was hope in her voice.

He shook his head. What a ludicrous idea. "No. I haven't been able to shake you, either."

She smiled coyly at that, looking away. The blush that highlighted her cheeks was endearing; God, she was breathtaking. He swallowed thickly, nerves knotting his stomach as he considered everything.

"So, what do we do now?"

She looked back at him but quickly averted her eyes, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. "Well...someday, I'd really like it if we could...get to know each other again," she said shyly, rushing to add, "if you're willing. I just...I need a little time right now. It's a little soon for me to be dating, I think. I hope you understand. I just—I didn't think I could wait any longer to see you. I was afraid you'd disappear or something, I guess."

Was this real? Suddenly, he couldn't remember how to breath—was he still pushing air in and out of his lungs? He laughed, almost deliriously, a short, gasping sound, and he shook his head, partly in answer to her question and partly to test that his muscles still worked. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll wait as long as you need. I'd love to take you on a date someday down the road when you're ready. If you want."

Katniss smiled at him. "Yes, I'd really like that," she agreed. Her smile widened into a teasing grin, and she tugged on his fingers. "And you won't even have to draw my keys this time."

He dropped his forehead to rest against her hands and chuckled. Shaking his head, he lifted it to peer up at her, a smirk spreading across his face. "So, I take it our first date  _shouldn't_  be at Snow's mansion, then?" She just laughed heartily and shoved his head away.

"Asshole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support on this story! I apologize for not responding to all the reviews, but I appreciate everyone who took the time to read and review! I hope this was a satisfactory conclusion for you guys :) Thank you AGAIN, especially to absnow for feeding me the original plot continuation and to didntheramble for reading after me and making sure the chapters/plot continued to make sense and didn't completely suck.


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